Recurring Note
by Tomas the Betrayer
Summary: The worst hubris is believing you know everything about someone. When Light Yagami finally confronted Near, the fate of humanity rested in the hands of Kira's greatest miscalculation. God, know thy work.
1. Chapter 1

I am nowhere that I recognize. Nor do I remember why I am here.

I cannot seem to remember anything, actually.

What is my name?

There appears to be some confusion on that score.

I said that I do not know why I am here. So why do I feel as if I am waiting for someone?

Whoever it is, they have not made an appearance so far. Not that I can see.

And I do still see.

There is a line of potential candidates. That is how I consider them. Why? Because there is no other way I can think of to relate with these souls. They are colorless. They are voiceless. They might as well not exist. All they do is walk on by, somewhere off to the side. Coming in from one end of my field of vision, and going out the other.

I am lying on my back. There is no ground. This place is unrecognizable because there is nothing to recognize, now that I think of it. Just white. Nothing else. Perhaps this _is_ nothingness. And if so, then the only place to exist is the place you are at the time. You create the only space available. There is nowhere else to be other than where you are. I suppose that explains why I cannot get up, or move in the slightest.

Perhaps I am dead.

And so are they.

But if that is the case, then why am I the only one not moving? Why are they passing me by?

Those black shadows watch over them.

They possess shape and form, but there is something definitely inhuman about them. Are these things guides? Shepherds of the afterlife? They seem to do nothing but patrol the line. Why remains a mystery, since none of their charges ever seem to step out of formation or even realize they can.

Am I in Hell?

How long have I been here?

Whom was I meant to meet? And what stopped me from meeting them?

I wish I knew for certain. These are my only thoughts, until finally…

Something happens.

One of the people in line notices me.

He looks at me for a time while shuffling by. Our eyes meet. He knows me. I know him.

He is not the person I am waiting for.

Then I see him look over at the shadowy figures. They do not seem to have noticed his unusual behavior.

Almost as if reaching a decision, he then walks out of line and crosses over to me.

Hello, I want to say, but nothing comes out.

He kneels down beside me. Behind him, I notice the shadows have taken note of his absence and are agitated. They come flying over on wings of stygian hue.

It is then that my sole acquaintance speaks to me. The first time that has happened since I have been here.

What he says is this:

"I've thought about it. And I can only conclude one thing. It's the watch."

Before any more words can be spoken, the wraiths descend and draw him away, their fingers patting and pawing at him in a strangely admonishing manner. He leaves without further incident, turning his back on me and walking off without sign of agitation or interest. There is something almost embarrassed about the way they handle him. But in the end, he rejoins the others and goes beyond my perceptions.

That seems familiar.

After this, there is just more waiting. No time, really. Only the passing of grave phantoms leached of all meaning and purpose and life.

I know I should be bored, but even that will not come here. I feel nothing in this non-zone of disassociation. Is anyone ever going to explain this to me? Don't I deserve at least that much? If only because I know that given the option, I would be curious.

Oh well. Maybe the time just isn't right yet.

Would whomever I'm looking for please give me some sign when you arrive? I wouldn't want to miss it when you do.

Is that a joke I just made?

I'm not laughing.

Do I no longer have a soul?

Hold on…

Someone's coming.

One of the shamblers looked at me, for only the second time ever. He just took a step out of line. This time, the attendants were ready. They swooped in almost immediately, alighting to stand in his path. The specters loom over him in a way I can only describe as menacing.

Suddenly he looks up at them.

They both cringe. And I can see why.

His eyes are red.

Maybe they communicate somehow. If so, it's clear who comes out on top. The wraiths stand aside, and he approaches me.

It's for certain. THIS is the man I wanted to find, back before I…

I died.

I'm dead.

My reason for being here is beside me now. Strange. Other than the eyes, I'm not getting much else. It's a man, but is he young? Old? What nationality? For some reason, I'm certain it's the same as my own, even though it's hard to tell anything from those gleaming crimson orbs.

Why was I trying to find you?

I try to ask, but nothing comes out.

"I can see your name. And more."

That's him speaking now.

"Not anyone else. Just you."

So?

What does that tell you?

"That can mean only one thing. You are not dead."

I beg to differ.

"Not completely."

What does that mean?

"I came over here because I saw your name, and thought I recognized something. I wanted to ask you how we knew each other."

We don't. I never got to meet you. I only wanted to. That much I know.

"But I don't have to. I remember now. It just came to me. We heard it together, around the beginning of all this. But he never told me everything about you."

Please.

Can you help me?

"If I heard it at the beginning, then we must soon be approaching the end."

He leans down then, and places his hands beneath my body.

What are you doing to me?

Why are we here?

Tell me, please.

He does. He tells me all I need to hear. Just two words. Leaning in, he whispers to me…

My name.

And I am…

ALIVE!!!

The man lifts upwards, straining. I feel how heavy I am, and try to help. Fighting, challenging, that's what we do. I'm screaming as I do, because something is pushing against me, so much weight, I try to get beyond it. Together we can do it. Together! He pulls, and I push. My arms come around him, without feeling, but I _know_ he is there! The name, that's what I needed to remember, and he was the only one who could see it, with his eyes. It feels like roots are being ripped away from my limbs, and I am astonished to realize that I can _feel_ once more. I'm almost there, and then…

With a howl, I push upwards, and the tomb comes open.

I am still in the nowhere place. Upright now. Our arms are around each other, like we are embracing.

He looks at me then, and it suddenly occurs to me that his eyes are kind. And tired. Even though they are not human. This is what you call a fatherly expression. I suppose this man is my father, because he has given me life once again.

My eyes are opening. I didn't even realize they were closed.

Then he whispers to me once more.

"Please. Put an end to it. I know you can. You are the only one who can destroy Kira."

Kira.

I know who that is, and so I say his name.

When I do, my new father's face crumples.

Grief.

The world in white fades away, then, and him along with it, leaving me looking up at…

The stars.

I climb out of my stolen grave, breathing for what seems like the first time in years. The pill bottle falls from my hand. This place is old, from before the wars. A sign tells me that it might be renovated soon. How odd. I thought for sure no one would think to look for me here. It seemed like the cleverest solution.

The date on the sign is 2005, but it looks rather outdated.

How long have I been dead?

* * *

They counted down, in their heads. Down to the very last second.

40.

The four members of the Kira Task Force flinched, an involuntary cry coming from Matsuda. Across the way, their counterparts from the Special Provision for Kira remained outwardly calm.

"Near, it looks like 'L' wins."

He made his pronouncement.

And nobody died.

Light Yagami blinked.

The man with the Death Note looked around him. "Oh, God."

Someone behind Light whispered incredulously, "We're not dead." He did not turn to see who it was.

"I believe I stated several times that we would not." Surrounded by bodyguards, the monochrome child genius Near smiled triumphantly at his rival. "Capture Mikami," he then ordered.

Two of the SPK dashed forward, wrestling the slight maniac's arms behind his back and cuffing him.

The Death Note fell to the ground.

"Gevanni. The notebook."

It was odd how one side of the room seemed to be frozen in stupefied amazement, while the other side was doing all the work. Perhaps that meant only a single group really knew everything that was going on here. At any rate, it was one of the Americans who carefully retrieved the tattered black writing pad and brought it over to his crouching commander, who was all of thirteen years old.

The two teams assigned to capture their world's murderous overlord squared off, each in possession of a killer sheaf of parchment.

Standing between them, slightly removed from his underlings, stood Light Yagami, the man who had assumed the mantle of 'L', World's Greatest Detective.

Near glanced down at the opened Death Note briefly, then inverted it for all to see. "Everyone please take notice."

All of the Japanese policemen scanned the pages from across the room. Even at this distance, they could read the names clearly spelled out on it.

Nine names.

One of them was missing.

"The first four," Near proclaimed in his soft whispery inflectionless voice, "belong to myself and the members of the SPK. I'm sure you can recognize your own names. All except for one."

That slack face with its piercing hawk-like eyes focused in on the handsome young Japanese who stood petrified before him.

"You, Light Yagami," Near murmured. "Mikami spoke to you as God, and you admitted out loud it was over. I believe that is all the proof we need."

The older man gave a start, astonishment written all over his features.

"No, hold on, this is a trap, I've never seen this man in my life, why do you think he was addressing me?! And what I said before was that 'L' had…"

Before he could finish his explanation, Shuichi Aizawa moved up behind and placed a hand on the chief of detectives' shoulder, a pair of handcuffs in the other. The rest of his crew remained dumbfounded at what they were seeing.

"Give it up, Light," he spoke, a world of remonstrance and perhaps even pity in his tone. "Near clearly won here. There's nothing more for you to say that can convince or deceive us."

With that, he began to place the shackles on his superior officer and confirmed murderer, who stood there still and dumb as a statue.

"Hey."

It was Matsuda who said it.

And for that, Light was very, very glad.

The most infantile member of their taskforce peered across the room, looking very puzzled.

"That's not my name."

Aizawa stiffened, along with everyone else in the warehouse.

"What?" he asked.

Touta Matsuda, the junior detective, glanced over at him with wide eyes and pointed.

"That's not my name," he repeated.

Everyone looked. There, written in clear precise letters on the page was the name…

Touta Natsuda.

A misspelling.

Aizawa stared blankly, disbelieving what his eyes were clearly telling him. Then they traveled over to the right, just a little bit. Written beside the other name was his own.

Shuichi.

Aizala Shuichi.

Even the kanji was off.

He swallowed in a dry throat, and beneath his grip the flabbergasted police officer felt his captive relax.

Near's eyes had, against all reason, gotten bigger. They looked to be the size of donburi bowls in his prepubescent countenance. The shabbily dressed master detective whipped the book around and held it straight up before his face, staring at the words written there in ink that had still yet to dry.

Anthohy Carter. Steqhen Loud. Holle Bullook.

Slight misspellings in all of the members' names.

Even his own.

Note River.

This…

This made no sense.

"What is the meaning of th…?"

"HEY!"

Another one of Yagami's colleagues shouted. Hideki Ide was his name. He too was pointing at the Death Note.

"I SEE HIS NAME!"

Ten pairs of eyes snapped once more to the same spot. Before anything more could be said, Near whipped the book back around and stared at it fixedly. The entire page before the one bearing their appellations was completely filled with names and dates, all inscribed in a very crisp efficient manner. There was virtually no space left between the words, so that none of the paper would go to waste.

There, written between a properly spelled former US president and a convicted financial con man, was the name Liqht Yagami.

LIQHT! With a 'Q'!

The date and time written beneath it was for today. Approximately five minutes ago.

All members of the American special investigative unit stared down at this perplexing mystery, even their avowed mental superior and leader.

"It's _spelled_ wrong," Gevanni croaked dumbly. The muscle-bound sidekick flinched as his handler's hard agate eyes snapped accusingly up at him. "I… I never noticed," he whispered. "I was so tired last night, and it was the very last page, I just never put it together, it sounds almost Swedish, I had just written down thousands of names in another person's hand, I wasn't actually reading them, I never knew…." His voice trailed off.

While they remained spellbound before the wealth of elementary penmanship mistakes, LIGHT Yagami turned his head and studied the black-garbed prisoner held by his burly Western jailer.

"Why did you write only my name yesterday?" he demanded in a faint, uncomprehending voice.

Mikami kept his eyes rooted to the floor.

"Because that is what God told me to do," he proclaimed.

Light stirred, and glanced behind him to where Aizawa still kept a hand on his shoulder. As if realizing what he was doing to his captain, the astonished public servant hastily withdrew his grip. His cheeks turned red with shame and embarrassment. There was confused regret written all up and down his body, and his jaws worked soundlessly, as if he had been robbed of the ability to speak. Before him, the young genius gave a slight nod, as if to reassure him. Or perhaps to promise they would have a long talk about this later, he couldn't tell. Then Yagami once more turned his attention to their prize.

"Why did you _misspell_ all of our names?!"

"Because…"

A slight grin worked its way up the man's lips.

"Because that is what God told me to do!"

And he chuckled, before hanging limp once more.

Light watched the madman carefully for a few seconds, as if trying to determine some deeper meaning behind his words.

Then he blew out his breath, and ran a hand through his chestnut locks.

"Near…"

Across the room, the little boy remained scrunched up on the floor, gaze darting all up and down the pages of the Death Note. His lips were moving slightly, like he was speaking to himself. Near's head went slowly off to one side, then the other. He seemed to have relapsed into the professional calm that was his trademark pose, but briefly, every now and then, a slight twitch caused one shoulder to jerk slightly. Then a little later it happened again.

"Near!" Light yelled in a loud voice.

The person in question shot his head up. That same vapid face looked out at them, and the mouth kept right on opening and closing. He looked for all the world like someone who had just completed a jigsaw puzzle only to find there was one piece left. Or perhaps a space with no corresponding tile. Beneath the surface of the child's mask, where one of the most extraordinarily gifted minds the world had ever known resided, there seemed to be a battle being waged. And neither side knew how to win.

Light Yagami regarded him coolly.

"Near, I don't pretend to know what is going on here, or how you're involved in it. If this man is part of some elaborate set-up to trap me, I fail to see how the plan was meant to be executed, unless you honestly expected me to come right out and reveal that I was Kira in some smug proclamation the second before we were all meant to die. Don't take this the wrong way, but doesn't that seem a little… childish?"

The only child in the room continued to regard his chosen opponent with an inscrutable gaze.

Light waited patiently for a response. When none seemed to be forthcoming, he gave a desultory shake of his head, then turned back to his teammates.

"I want that black-clad character taken into our custody," he informed them quietly. The men under his command lost those looks of befuddlement that had been smeared over their faces for the last few minutes, seeming to find themselves and their purpose once more at his words. "We'll interrogate him, and find out what connection, if any, he has to Kira. Get the notebook as well, that in and of itself is evidence that he is more familiar with our case than any civilian should have a right to be. Once we've ascertained…"

"You can't have it."

The inheritor of the title of L straightened up and turned back about to regard his challenger.

Near watched him from beneath lowered brows. There was nothing in those cold black orbs. Not hate or fear or joy. The body they inhabited might as well have been dead for all the emotion he portrayed at this point.

"Excuse me?" the Japanese investigator inquired politely.

"This Death Note is ours," the social misfit returned in terms of equal civility. "We made it. In a single night. It's a fake, Light Yagami. Didn't you realize that?"

"No, I didn't," his associate replied truthfully. "When he came in, I thought he might be Kira, so how could his Note not be real, then? And when that fell apart, I was too surprised at the spelling mistakes to really consider the validity of their medium. But your compatriot there mentioned something about not noticing my misspelled name last night in those pages. Now that I think about it, if you or someone else concocted this fake Kira here, then naturally he would have been supplied with a fake D…"

"_He is the real Kira!"_

The explosion of anger was not marked in any way by a change in the albino's features. The agents around him jumped, taken aback by this unexpected display of frustration from their autistic administrator. Whereas Light's people appeared to have once more banded together behind their fully-functioning leader, the members of the Occidental agency now put some space between them and the shaking savant, who more than ever looked to their eyes like a child. Near could feel them distancing themselves from him, but the information barely registered within his massive brain. That inner conflict from before was spilling out now, able to find no armistice within his head and thus seeking a new battlefield on which to parlay or continue their engagement.

"Your accusations only serve to reveal your own complicity in this affair!" Near called out loudly. "Trying to cast doubts upon our veracity, while at the same time taking advantage of something no one expected, is clearly meant to obfuscate the truths which have been made evident on this day!"

"Oh, really," Light crossed his arms scornfully. "And what truths might those be?"

The white dwarf jabbed a finger at him. "You are Kira! Both L, Mello, and myself all came to the same conclusion based on accumulated evidence. It is the only viable explanation for everything that has occurred! Nothing else makes sense. This man is obviously your subordinate, whom you have carefully kept from meeting directly at any time in the past…"

One of his brigade seemed about to speak up at this pronouncement, but Yagami silenced him with a gesture, then turned back to listening to Near's rant.

"…in yet another attempt to conceal your true agenda. You might have been able to divine our intent here somehow, but you are forgetting one crucial fact: we have the real Death Note in our possession! And your own team is in the same position! You will never be allowed to come near enough to these implements of mass murder to use them ever again, Light Yagami! Your reign as Kira has come to an end! Not even the shinigami behind you will be able to change that fact."

From the corner of one eye, several people saw the rumpled scarecrow Ryuk bare his teeth in a perpetual grin and snicker grotesquely, blood-red pupils staring out at them with the grim certainty of a crow before a massacre.

"In addition," the orphan ingénue continued, "we have one person in our custody who is bound to offer proof as to your involvement." His accusing finger swung about to settle on Mikami. "We will not relinquish him to your custody! Once he has been subjected to the American style of interrogation that nation is so widely known for, there can be no doubt that a man of his flimsy character and obvious mental fragility will quickly be stripped of any secrets no matter how you might have warped his thoughts. Another thing you forgot…!"

Light stifled a yawn, Ryuk laughed louder than before, and Mikami gave a gasp, head snapping up like a whip.

He remained that way for a moment, face aglow with some indescribable rapture, and then pitched face-forward to the ground.

Nine sets of eyes trained on his limp form.

Standing with his hand still at his mouth, Light Yagami's eyes slowly closed tight, and his jaws snapped together with a pronounced click.

"Jeezus Kerist Almighty," he growled from between clenched teeth. "Do not… do NOT TELL ME…!"

The American agent looked up from beside the body. "He's… dead."

Several groans of exasperation came from the Japanese section of the room.

"A_gain?!_" Kanzo Mogi exclaimed bitterly.

A few people glanced over at Light, who was now massaging his temples furiously. Others turned and looked at the death god hovering ominously behind them. At this, Ryuk raised his hands defensively.

"Wasn't me!" he muttered.

When their accusing glares did not falter, the spiky-haired harlequin sniffed and began scratching his armpit. "Right, sure, blame the shinigami in the room whenever somebody croaks. You people are such a bunch of racists, you make me sick." He then spread his wings and flew up to crouch on a ledge, observing the humans like a skeletal gargoyle.

Following this display of otherworldly huff, the second L stopped rubbing his scalp and let his hand drop back to his side with a sigh. His gaze swept over the storage space, as if memorizing all the contents for future codification. Then glancing over at his allies, Light made a dismissive gesture with his eyes. Nary a word of protest was made. Each man looked exhausted by the tense drama they had been forced to endure today, with apparently nothing to show for it. They all knew: somewhere out there, Kira no doubt still lived, in possession of a Death Note. A _third_ Death Note yet again. All their efforts had ended in failure once more. It was practically becoming routine for them.

As their Oriental counterparts began to file off, Near lurched to his feet.

"Stop."

He made a signal, and every American in the room pulled guns and trained them on Light Yagami. Almost immediately the Japanese reacted in kind, their weapons emerging to fix upon one of the SPK. Light did not move.

Instead he slowly turned his head and met the eyes of the opposing team's brain trust.

Neither of them spoke aloud.

But it seemed as if they knew what the other was thinking. Everyone else in that warehouse and even the place itself disappeared, and they stood alone facing off in a pitch-black void.

The conversation could have gone something like this:

_What?! What are you going to do, you snot-nosed European punk? Are you going to shoot me? Gun me down? I'd like to see you try!_

_You're Kira. I know it._

_You know it? You KNOW it?!! Let me fill you in on a little secret: EVERYBODY knows it! There's not a man or woman in that room who DOESN'T believe deep down that I'm Kira! My good friend L convinced each and every one of my men of that idea long before you lifted your bleached-blonde head! He didn't do it with evidence, or tricks, or even conviction. He did it with the sheer inescapable fact that IT WAS TRUE! They didn't want to admit it, any one of them, because then it would have slighted my father's name and revealed that they had been letting me foul them up for years without anybody being able to prove it. But what other explanation was there?! You know about Sherlock Holmes, right? 'Eliminate all the logical possibilities, and then the illogical, however implausible, must be true!' How implausible was it that they would not only find Kira, but invite him into their group to help them catch him?! It was brilliant! It was daring! IT WAS L!_

_I'm not going to lose to you, Kira._

_Sit on your thumb toys and rotate, you thundering retard! Has it bothered to penetrate that socially-stunted melon of yours that no one WANTS me to be caught?! That they actually BENEFIT from the world that I am creating? No, of course not. And you want to know why?! Because you don't LIVE in our world! You're a worthless little idiot-savant who couldn't tell shit from apple butter if his life depended on it! You sit in an insulated box all day, playing with toys and solving insolvable puzzles! You don't interact, you don't suffer, you don't struggle and fail and laugh and scream and fuck and weep and dream like we do. You're not a human being, you're a device! A calculator! A set of preprogrammed databases and constraints, where if we humans plug in enough information you're bound to come up with the right answer no matter what! Only problem is, NOBODY WILL BELIEVE IT'S THE RIGHT ANSWER! You're the twenty-first century's very own Cassandra of Troy! You're always right, but the people in charge don't accept it! _

_You're going to pay for L, Kira._

_I AM L, YOU MISERABLE LITTLE TURD! I took his name and his title away from him the same way he did Coil and Danuve. I beat L! I WON! And you, you self-important abomination, you practiced riddles and word-games and deductive challenges with a bunch of other unwanted orphans for a few years and beat them all, and as a result of that, you thought you were equipped to match wits with the most prodigious revolutionary intellect this world has ever seen? The one even L couldn't destroy?! I'VE LIVED MORE THAN YOU! I'VE DONE MORE, I'VE FELT MORE, I KNOW MORE! HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY HOPE TO CHALLENGE A PERSON WHO CAN KILL PEOPLE JUST BY THINKING ABOUT THEM?! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT POWER MEANS?! IT MEANS I'M NOT JUST A HUMAN ANYMORE, I'M A GOD! A GOD, DO YOU HEAR ME?!! A __**GOD!!!!!**_

_No. You're not. You're a crazy infantile murderer, and I'm going to put an end to you if it costs me my life. I haven't got the evidence yet, but I will eventually. If I can't kill you here, then the same applies to me. I can't be touched by you. You can't possibly think of everything._

_And I suppose you can?!_

_More than you, I guarantee it. This is only the first of my sorties against you, but I promise it won't be the last, Kira._

_Yeah? Well, we'll just have to see about that, NATE RIVER!!_

It was around this time that Light turned and began to make his way towards the door leading outside. Several pistols still trained on him, but without a confirmation from Near, none of them were able to fire. The boy was the only one capable of matching Kira. They knew this. And because of his awesome mental abilities which they all held in such high regard, it had become impossible for them to act without his consent in this situation. They were as critically dependent on Near as Mello's Mafia connections had been to him.

So while their target moved, the unspoken talk continued.

_You didn't know we made the switch with the real Note. Don't even try to deny it._

_Why should I? It doesn't MATTER, don't you see? No, I didn't consider that it was possible you could actually make a picture-perfect copy of something that wasn't even crafted in this dimension, so that the person who owned it wouldn't be able to tell the difference under a magnifying glass. But so what? I didn't consider it, because it's a STUPID trap! Did you really think I would fall into something so cliché?_

_It won't be the last, I told you._

_Oh my goodness, you did! You honestly thought that I was going to risk everything on a brainless toady just to have some spectacle that I could laugh at! Of course, it all makes sense! You're just a stupid kid! This is all 'Saturday morning cartoons' to you! You're such a novice to this game that you believed that great minds think alike, and therefore since you were willing to risk your life by coming to this meeting, I would too. Do you know why they say great minds think alike? Because according to great minds, anyone who doesn't think like them is a MORON! And that's what you thought! Deep down, you convinced yourself that you were smarter than me! Just look at the little toy you made of Kira, it's meant to demean me! No, I didn't see your switching trick coming, because I never planned on any of you dying here at all. You thought I was going to risk myself to have the chance to kill you all in one fell swoop. _

_And you did._

_WRONG! I told you, only one person was meant to die today, and that's Mikami. I wrote his name down days ago. You see, the one thing that truly bothered me about L's death was that I couldn't do it myself, when I hoped from the beginning that it would come to that. I missed out on that satisfaction. So this time, when you made your ridiculous little challenge to meet here, I realized it was the perfect chance to get what I wanted from you: your FACE and your NAME! I didn't really have to know what you were planning. If I could only convince you that you had won with whatever trick you had up your sleeve, then you would be willing to reveal both to me, to show off how confident and superior you were! So I told Mikami: write my name earlier, but misspell it! Then, when we have our face-off, once you arrive, slightly misspell all the rest, but just enough for me to guess the right name on my own! You didn't realize it doesn't work unless you get a person's name exactly right, because you'd never dare to sully your hands with murder enough to experiment. But I did! I learned all the secrets of the Note, ones even its original owner didn't realize! And you yourself gave me my victory! You took off the mask! You turned the Death Note so that we could all see it, certain that afterwards my men would turn on me and I would be powerless. And now you're going to die for it, Nate._

_My name is meaningless. I've already destroyed you in this very room. There's no more ways for you to kill._

_You think having those two notebooks will stop me? I have plenty of strips remaining! I could be driving back to my home, chauffeured by one of these nitwits you tried to turn against me, and casually write it down. Or I could wait a week, a month, a year if I wanted to! You'll never know when you and your team will die, but I promise you this: the last one to go will find themselves inextricably compelled to place the Death Note you stole in an envelope and mail it back to me. And my team will experience exactly the same occurrence at some point! It only takes one, after all. I might even make it you, River. Won't that feel wonderful, to obey your God in his first and only commandment to you? To know that all your vaunted intellect was reduced to you being a mere courier to my reclaiming what belongs to me by divine right?_

_I'll destroy it before that happens._

_Go ahead. The other one will still come back to me. My rule will continue._

_It won't end with me. The next generation of L will rise to battle Kira._

_They'll die trying. Just like you. It's already too late, as Aizawa said. Kira has won._

_Never._

_Oh? Then why not pull a Hamlet on us? You know you're going to die, so you might as well do what you were too cowardly to accomplish before, because you were afraid of facing the consequences. Just order your men to shoot me. Come on, it'll be fun! Tell them to murder me, do it! See if they'll obey you to that extent. We can make it an experiment, to test their loyalty. You don't even know me, it'll be a kick to watch my bullet-riddled body dance to your tune, won't it? Then you can tell yourself what a great genius you are, outsmarting Kira with your guns and dumb apes whose only ambition is to get their boss' job. Won't that make our dear departed L ever so happy, to know that he left the world to your clumsy, violent, brutish child hands?_

_The only one here who disgraces the name of L is you, Light Yagami._

_I knew it. You can't give that order. It's not in you. But you know what, Nate? One day you'll be sitting down to your sugary sweet cold American breakfast cereal. You'll dip your little plastic spoon in the milk, and while you're raising it to your lips, one of those people there who dotes on you so will slip that heavy Desert Eagle pistol they're all sporting out of its holster, but the barrel to the back of your head, and blast a nice hot .50 caliber bullet into your brain. And while you're tasting your own gray matter in your mouth, the others will walk up, and I'll grant their fondest wishes too, letting them all shoot big fat bullets into that curly dome they all secretly despise. Once they've emptied the clips, they'll put one more into the chamber, place the guns in their mouths, wave goodbye to the old world, and usher in the new one with a BANG!_

_You are totally insane. Everyone else in the world recognizes this, why can't you?_

_What I am, Nate River, is alive. _

His fingers reached for the door handle.

_And in the end, that is all that counts._

Near then gave a signal. And the Americans…

…lowered their guns.

Kira had won.

The door opened onto a magnificent red sunset that lit the face of Shiva incarnate the color of fresh hot blood.

* * *

The door swung wide.

The person standing outside the warehouse, who had been listening to everything said for the last ten minutes, opened it.

Standing inside that building, his arm outstretched, was the face of Death himself.

When the woman saw him, she clenched her fist and drove it into his gut.

The killer doubled over, gasping and coughing. His attacker pushed him back inside, slammed the door shut, spun his body about and kicked him in the back of the knee.

Kira fell. His hands struck the pavement, and seconds later he felt a gun pressed against his back.

"Don't move," a woman's voice spoke firmly.

None of this made sense.

Over half a dozen different firearms now trained on the lady holding a gun on Light. Despite wearing a black baseball cap and dark glasses, her voice gave her away, and her figure showed through the jeans and leather biker's jacket she had on. None of this affected their determination to fire upon her if necessary.

"Ma'am," Hidechi eyed her down the length of his pistol, "Drop the weapon and place your hands where we can see them."

She quite thoroughly ignored him.

Light made his move, then.

"Why…"

Before he could continue, a black boot crushed down on his neck firmly. His sentence was cut off in a strangled grunt of pain. No further vocalizations came from the hostage. He was too busy wondering just who the hell this was.

And how he could use her.

"Light Yagami."

His captor was speaking once again, claiming all of his attention.

"I hereby place you under arrest for murder."

Everyone else in the room was staring at the pair of them now. Like this day wasn't already full of surprises.

From still under the yoke of her high-heeled footwear, one eye cracked open, and through teeth grinding in pain, he managed to gasp out a word.

"Whose?"

A gun still trained on him, and even more on her. But at this statement, the woman reached up and flicked off her glasses.

"Mine."

The cap came off next, and a mass of gleaming onyx hair fell down past her shoulders. Two black holes stared down at him with a dearth of pity normally only found in a professional executioner.

Beneath her gaze, Light's face went the color of a corpse, matching the whites that were now visible around his bulging eyes. A choking intake of air was all the sound he could muster.

There, holding a gun on him, stood Naomi Misora.

In the rafters, a shinigami cackled to himself.

"Well, now," Ryuk mused. "Isn't _this_ unexpected?"

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

"Excuse me, but, why do you keep looking at your watch?"

"Hmm?" the handsome youth glanced down at her. "Oh, that. Well, you see, it's because…"

The second hand clicked.

"I'm Kira."

And with those words, she was doomed.

Naomi Misora stared into the smiling face of her betrayer. Quite suddenly, there was no more reason for her to remain here talking to him. Her decision had been made. So confirmed, she then turned and walked away.

"Oh, miss," she heard him call out casually. "My cell phone seems to be working now. Would you like to speak to my father?"

No.

A moment ago, that was the only thing she had wanted in all the world, so much that not being able to had frustrated her into seeking out any available means of bypassing her difficulties. Even a kid like this, who claimed much and offered little by way of proof, she had latched onto with a desperate benighted hope.

But just like that, the full weight of her grief had settled in, as if it had only been waiting for the right time to strike. And the former FBI agent realized there was absolutely nothing else to do but end her life in the most capable and isolated way possible.

"No, thank you. I have to go."

She walked away from the enthusiastic boy named Light Yagami without considering anything he had said or done. Nothing mattered except killing herself.

* * *

So Light Yagami left Naomi to her unavoidable death, and never gave her another thought for six years.

That was how he remembered it going. And until ten seconds ago, there had existed nothing to cause him to reevaluate his opinion of how their relationship and her life had ended.

The only thing was, Light had a very good memory for faces. Given the right incentives, he would have made an excellent portrait-maker at local carnivals. But in the absence of any such inclinations, instead his keen eye for physiognomy was put to good use envisioning peoples' features while dispatching them with a fatal stroke of the pen. And for this reason, upon looking into the face of the woman who was currently holding him hostage at gunpoint, there was absolutely no denying that she did possess the appearance of the annoyingly astute female he had casually terminated towards the start of his career as Kira.

But that was just plain impossible.

Right, world?

**IMPOSSIBLE**!

He said that word to himself over and over, while the rest of them chattered mindlessly around him like squirrels worrying over a nut.

When he was done sating his inner sense of reality, the chief of detectives effortlessly fell back into his ordinary state of diamond-sharp multifaceted awareness.

Light glanced around the room from his position on the floor. Being a superb judge of body language, it was quite clear that at present he was the only person who recognized the woman on sight. The rest of them were displaying worry, consternation, cold determination, and in the case of Near (_Nate River_, don't forget it) calm deliberation. If that was so, given what he knew about the majority of them as investigators, it was therefore highly likely that none of them were familiar with Naomi Misora's face. And even he had been struck by what an especially attractive visage it was upon first meeting her. So with that in mind, being that most of them were (assumedly) red-blooded heterosexual males, had they met her or seen her picture at some point, they would have been compelled by professional hang-ups and primitive reptilian urges to try and learn more about her, at least as far as getting her name and phone number.

And thus Kira reasoned that he remained the only person at present who could attest to her being Naomi Misora.

There. One question resolved. Let us move to another more difficult problem.

Why is _Naomi Misora_ pointing a gun at me, when I had her commit suicide back in 2004?

This had never happened in all his long experience at quietly murdering people.

The boot on his throat pressed in tighter, and Light was seeing red once again.

* * *

Being the only person who had not been expected at this turn-out, Misora was confident that in spite of several projectile weapons being pointed in her direction, unless she gave them any overt intentions of provoking hostilities, the detectives in this room were sufficiently curious to refrain from gunning her down, regardless of the fact that she was holding one of their own on the floor.

Please, all of you, she prayed to herself. Just remember the same training I'm betting we all received at some point. Talk first. Shoot later. Give me a chance to make this work, I beg of you.

I'm the only hope you have of surviving.

"Excuse me," the pallid child dressed in oversized clothes (seriously, it looked as though he had pulled them out of the closet of a full-grown man and slipped them on) spoke. "Would you mind explaining to us who you are and what you think you are doing?"

Don't distract me, junior. You're not relevant to what's going on here anymore. I have to keep focused on Kira. Should I ask him to do the honors? Clearly he remembered me, if that look a moment ago was any indication. Unfortunately, I'm the only one who noticed it. He covered it too fast, and they were all observing me during that time. You lucked out again, Light, you thrice-damned god of good fortune.

"My name is Naomi Misora." She spoke clearly so as to avoid any calls to repeat herself. "Six years ago I was a retired FBI agent living in Japan when I became involved in the Kira case. I made some investigations, and went to the local police headquarters in an attempt to contact the Kira task force, to offer my services to them. It was there that I met Light Yagami."

Misora twisted the heel of her shoe on his neck, partly out of malice, and mainly because she had noticed Light about to speak. In her opinion, it would be best to put that off for as long as possible. This silver-tongued devil was not to be taken lightly in terms of persuasion, that she knew all too well.

"At the time I had no inkling that he was Kira. I had gone there intending to contact his father, Suichiro Yagami, whom I knew had been assigned to L's unit. The officers on duty at the reception desk denied me access to the man, but did confirm that the teenager who had just walked in was his son. I approached Light, and asked for his cooperation in meeting with Chief Yagami."

They were all staring at her with rapt attention, none of them daring to interrupt, even the bug-eyed junior detective. Good. The more they listened, the less they questioned. She needed at least the appearance of having reached them for this to work.

"During the course of our conversation, I originally offered him an alias, but eventually he managed to corner me into admitting my true name to him. After I did, he wrote it down on a piece of paper. At that point, I suddenly and quite unexpectedly decided to commit suicide, and did so less than 48 hours later."

That last part really got them. She could tell by the stricken looks that passed over several of their faces. Who else but these people could listen to such a statement and not automatically condemn her for a lunatic? Assembled here was the largest collection of Kira experts in the globe. They knew apparently enough about the facts of this case to understand what such a decision must signify in terms of justifiable reason. Now, let's see how long this can last.

One of her countrymen, a man with a permanently angry look and a scraggly goatee, cleared his throat without lowering his gun a fraction.

"Miss Misora, are you telling us that you have been dead for the last six years?"

"Five years and nine months, actually," she responded in a prim voice. "I've been active again for the last three months."

"That…"

They all looked down at the young man pinned beneath her boot who had just spoken.

"That doesn't make any sense," Light Yagami snarled through clenched teeth. He watched her with eyes that might been bright with pain, or madness, or the vilest hatred anyone could imagine.

Misora returned the look with an unfazed one of her own.

"No?" she inquired softly and removed her foot, but kept the gun trained on him.

Kira did not rise, remaining in his unusual state on the floor. Apparently he had not been able to deduce her intentions for coming here to a sufficient degree to be certain moving would not provoke her into shooting him. Instead he remained with his legs tucked beneath his chest, trembling and wiping dirt from his mouth. Get used to it, you bastard. It only gets worse from here.

"Just what kind of bullshit are you trying to foist off on us?"

His voice was low and harsh when he spoke, almost like the growl of a dog. It sent an unpleasant shiver down her spine. Totally at odds with the pleasant demeanor she recalled from six years ago. Perhaps I'm getting to him faster than I thought. Who can say how a mind like this works?

"I don't know how you learned about this meeting, or who you really are. 'Naomi Misora'? That's a name I can honestly say I've never heard before. And of course you also claimed to be ex-FBI. A foreign institution, that's a very nice touch. I have to wonder how many female Japanese federal agents there have been in the United States for the last ten, twenty, or even one hundred years. Probably no more than fifty. It shouldn't be difficult to weed through their files to determine if you are at least whom you say you are."

"But as for this rubbish about meeting me back in high school…" He moved into a more comfortable position. "… it should be interesting to hear how you intend to prove this little story to anyone."

An ugly sneer twisted his lips, and the narrowed eyes thrust daggers at her heart. Against all her inclinations and reason, Naomi felt a thrill of fear. Probably derived from the realization that she was currently facing down the greatest serial killer in human history. There was a certain professional excitement to all this, wasn't there?

"Did I perhaps sign my name as Kira for you prior to the suicide impulse taking over? Or maybe we took a picture in a photo kiosk to commemorate the occasion? Please, I'm absolutely dying to hear what proof you have to support this allegation."

In response, she cocked her head at him slightly, and hefted the pistol so its target point rested between his eyes.

Light shut up very quickly, and the other officers once more confirmed their aim upon her center of mass.

Misora stared at him, studying the face of a killer.

"You are dying to know, aren't you, Light?" She smiled then, a fond, gently teasing lift of the lips that left him speechless at seeing it being directed at him from one of his own victims. "You're more afraid now than you've been in the last five years, and it has nothing to do with evidentiary proof or the court systems or even trying to preserve face in front of all these people. But I think you should let me do the talking from now on."

She then knelt beside him, and removed her other hand from the coat. What she held in it caused everyone else in the room to doubt their senses.

It was a ball-gag.

The type you buy in S&M shops.

Her nemesis' mouth fell open in surprise.

As soon as it did, she then proceeded to stuff the rubber sphere in between his teeth, and looped the elastic band back over his head, letting it snap into place with painful security. Light winced, and he automatically reached to remove the impediment. Before he could, however, the gun was pressed firmly against his temple. A slow shake of Naomi's head let him know that further attempts would be met with extreme resistance.

Shaking with fury and humiliation, the hunched coordinator submitted to this treatment, his forehead touching the concrete in an apparent attempt to hide his indignity as much as possible. The other people in the room were still too shocked at witnessing such a scene outside of the entertainment industry to have voiced any protests.

Returning to her full height, their enigmatic intruder took in the sight of him silenced at her feet. Light was restrained and essentially removed from the others' attention. Now was the time for the most dangerous stage of the game. With this in mind, Naomi began her group interrogation.

"Would anyone care to tell me what made the Kira case so much more difficult than traditional murder investigations?"

The shaggy blonde boy made no reply, which apparently preempted any of his cohorts from voicing their own inferior estimations. From the Japanese, however, a big blocky square-jawed man lowered his pistol a fraction and spoke calmly.

"He kills using non-traditional methods."

"Thank you." The proclaimed Lazarus turned her attention back on her prisoner. "From the beginning, it's been apparent to everyone in our society that Kira uses methods that fall outside the normal bounds of human awareness. Some proclaim that makes him a god, and so he should be left to his own devices without human interference. But everyone in this room has learned that his power in fact stems from a book. A Death Note, you call it. And in addition, there are certain limits to his power."

Naomi raised her voice without taking her eyes off Yagami for a second. "Are all of you aware that pages and pieces of pages torn from the Death Note remain as lethal as those still contained in its binding?"

There was no spoken confirmation, but neither were there denials. Might as well assume that meant the thought was not averse to their minds.

"Are you also aware that the person writing in it is able to control the actions of those he has determined to kill?"

"YES!" That was a fresh-faced Japanese who looked to be about her age. "That's what L said around the beginning, he said the messages written by some of the convicts who died in prison were actually sent by Kira through them! He knew it, even back then!"

Misora blinked, and then nodded in satisfaction.

"I suppose he would have. L always caught on to things quickly."

She was just about to continue, when one of the other natives to this island spoke up quickly.

"Naomi…"

The woman in question glanced over at him. It was the sullen-faced man again, only now there was a look of wonder staring out of his eyes. As if something absolutely miraculous had just dawned on him.

"Misora."

Everyone was watching him now, except for Light, who remained unmoving where he lay. The speaker blinked, and said in a shaky voice, "I remember now. Those FBI agents who died. One of them had a fiancée. Ukita…!" He swallowed thickly, as though choking down painful memories, then spun and addressed the boyish member of their group. "Matsuda, don't you remember? A few days after they died, Ukita was manning the phones at headquarters, and he patched a woman through to your dummy cell phone! L took the call. It was the fiancée's mother, wanting to report that her daughter had gone missing. L seemed to know her, the daughter, not the mother, and her name was…"

A light dawned in the younger one's (Matsuda) eyes.

"Naomi Misora," he whispered.

Everyone went back to staring at her. Only now, those two men had lowered their firearms without even seeming to realize it. Glancing back and forth between them in a puzzled manner, another one haltingly did the same, apparently not having been privy to that particular conversation but respecting his allies' judgment. At about the same time, the last member of the Japanese detectives' party let his sidearm drop. Who could tell what convinced them. Perhaps it was the mention of L, the man who even now continued to astound and mystify his chosen few. There was something almost magical about that name for them, lending credence to any story, no matter how far-fetched. Now it was only three people drawing a bead on her, but somehow, it did Misora's heart good to know that none of her countrymen were willing to shoot her at a moment's notice.

Down in the dirt, something absolutely horrific flashed over Light's face, only to be replaced with calm dignity in the next second.

Her pulse was beating faster, but the gunwoman forced herself to think and act calmly. Like L. Be like L. Look at them all, find out what they know and what they want to believe. I have to let him still think that there's a chance he can get out of this.

Wait.

Something I personally would like to know first.

"Excuse me… Matsuda, was it?"

He perked up at hearing his name, like a puppy. Honestly, was this guy an actual detective?

"There's something I need you to tell me."

"Uh, sure." Matsuda peered back and forth between his colleagues, as if looking for disagreement. When none was forthcoming, he volunteered, "Ask away, Mi…Misora."

It was hard to ask. Much harder, knowing that her worst fears were about to be confirmed. But this was necessary. For her.

"Will you tell me how L died?"

It was in their faces. All of the Japanese investigators, and somehow that let her know that they had indeed not only been permitted to meet L as she never had, but also worked with him closely enough to develop a profound appreciation and respect for the man who bore the title of 'World's Greatest Detective'. There was nothing else that could have made them look so sad. Or ashamed.

"It was…a…" Matsuda grimaced, and suddenly wiped away tears.

"Heart attack."

The one who spoke was the fellow with the goatee. There was something curiously bitter about his profile as he looked away from them, like this line of questioning was stirring old troubling memories.

"He died of a heart attack right in front of us. There was nothing we could do to save him." He continued in a tight, strained voice. "Light… held him in his arms as he left."

Something struck Light's neck, and he flinched.

Looking up, he saw tears running down the face of the dead woman watching him.

She sucked in a breath, and let it out.

"I'm glad."

Several of them stirred at that.

"I'm very glad… that it was quick. I'm glad to hear that you were all there for him in the end, and that he didn't go through what I had to. In that, at least, Light showed him mercy."

Naomi steadied herself.

And then she spoke the truth that had killed her years ago.

"A heart attack is not the only way Kira can kill."

Her attention flickered up a second after making that statement, to try and gauge their reactions, before settling back onto Kira. She couldn't tell how many of them were surprised at this revelation, if any. It was kind of dispiriting to think that they all might have figured that out and remained alive in spite of it. Just what was it about me that made it necessary to kill that day, you heartless bastard? Light stared up at with her frigid revulsion. That's right, keep still and listen. I'll give you what you've been waiting for in just a second.

"I figured this out as a result of my investigations ten years ago. My fiancé was assigned to track a Kira suspect before his death. One day upon returning home, he told me that they had both been involved in an attempted bus-jacking. The perpetrator was killed in a hit-and-run while fleeing the vehicle. Neither our suspect nor his tail apparently stayed to be interviewed at the scene. At the time, I didn't really consider that as strange. What did strike me as odd was that a criminal would die in such an unusually convenient manner right next to someone suspected of being Kira, the avowed slayer of criminals."

"After my fiancé's passing, I put two and two together. Another thing he had mentioned was that in order to keep his target from trying something foolish in that hostage situation, he had been forced to reveal his name and identity. I think that's what Kira was after from the start. The whole bus-jacking was set up to reveal this information to him. Only the obviously guilty man died that day, and because of that, I realized that it was too perfect to be random. No suspicion was aroused by the facts, but if you looked beyond the facts and considered the results, then you could see a careful organization at work. Kira controlled everything that happened, through the death of a single man."

"Death is Kira's forte. He confirmed this much, when Light here sent me off to commit suicide."

Several of the men grimaced, or swallowed involuntarily. But Naomi still only had eyes for one person.

"Would you like to know how I did it, Mr. Yagami?"

And in response, he smiled up at her around the gag.

* * *

On the day of January 2, 2004, Naomi Misora went back to her apartment and sat down in a chair to decide how to kill herself. Somehow she could not abide the thought of her body ever being found, so it had to be done in a manner that would dispose of her remains and prevent exposure or identification. In addition, it must happen sometime in the next two days. This was absolutely essential.

With casual indifference, the beautiful young woman plotted her own demise.

The gun was out of the question. It was loud, and messy. Might attract attention eventually. What about strangulation? Possibly, possibly. But it still left the matter of the body. Ah-ha. She could use sulfuric acid. But how would she go about acquiring the necessary amount? Perhaps back in the United States it would be a simple matter, but here in Japan was different. And she could not run the risk of losing all that time in air travel.

Wait. Perhaps the method of self-termination could be put on hold for a while. Naomi already knew she had to do it. The question remained: how do you kill yourself and hide yourself all at the same time?

The veteran investigator pondered. She was perfectly familiar with a certain individual who had managed to attempt suicide with the intention of being mistaken for a murder victim. Surely that person could come up with a solution for this! Unfortunately, he was serving a life sentence, and once again a meeting would require a continental plane trip. Scratch that resource.

Time was running out. Think.

I could have myself eaten by wild dogs. But there is no guarantee they would finish my body completely. The leftovers could be found. Or maybe I could wander into a construction site and throw myself into a pool of quick-drying cement. No, that plan requires me to do it in daylight, the workers would be bound to notice me. If only I could hire someone to dispose of the body when I'm done, but that goes against what I need to accomplish here. No one can ever find me.

So then, I should go out to sea on a cruise, weight my feet down and throw myself overboard. Except the weights might come off, and my body would wash up somewhere. Not so far out, then. Go down to the docks, and… tie myself to one of the struts of a pier. Drown myself. No one ever looks below the waterline there. But if I was below the waterline, how would I tie myself to it? Ropes would eventually rot. And nailing myself to the post would have the same problem. Eventually the flesh would deteriorate and my corpse would float free, to possibly be discovered.

This is actually harder than one might think.

All right. The question that really needs to be answered here is location. I have to kill myself in a place that no one would think of looking. So what are my options?

The ocean is out. Unreliable.

Throw myself into a live volcano. And how am I supposed to locate and reach one of those in less than 48 hours? That's rejected.

All right then, a more modern form of immolation. Find a funeral home, sneak into their cremation center, and vaporize myself. No, wait, those systems are designed so as to avoid exactly something like that happening. Denied.

Launch myself into outer space. Ridiculous. Get serious here.

Go to a garbage dump, lock myself in an abandoned refrigerator, and tie a plastic bag around my head. The flies would never be noticed there. No, the police look in places like that for bodies regularly, you know that. One good corpse-sniffing dog and I'm found.

Focus, focus, focus.

Nothing's coming to me.

All right, then. Change the question again. If you are thinking of a place where no one would expect to find a body, perhaps what you need is a place everyone would look for a body, just not yours.

A hospital morgue. Break into one at night, overdose, tie on a 'Jane Doe' toe-tag… They fingerprint those people, don't they? Destroy my fingerprints? Pull out my teeth? Nothing I can do about DNA. Modern forensics would identify me in a heartbeat.

Funeral parlor? Already thought of that.

Cemetery. Go there, dig a hole… can't bury myself, not without assistance.

Find a hole that's already been dug, and climb into it? No, wait, that's American-style funerals. In Japan we cremate people, then bury them. Saves space in the cemeteries.

But hang on…

In European graveyards, there are things called mausoleums, right? Small structures built to house one body. If I could find one, break in, hide evidence of my entry, zip myself up in a body bag, kill myself, it's a done deal. No one would look for a body where they know for certain one is supposed to exist.

How would I hide the evidence of the break-in?

For that matter, where am I supposed to find a European mausoleum in the Kanto region?

Are there any European cemeteries to be found in this prefecture?

Think. This feels like my best bet.

Wait.

I believe so.

Yes.

We went there once before. On a sightseeing trip.

It's not in this ward. It's in Minato. And its name is…

The Aoyama Cemetery. Our country's first public one.

That's where I'll find what I need.

Perfect.

Later that night, Naomi Misora went investigating in a national landmark for the dead. Having been several years, it took her a while to remember where she needed to go in the shadows to find what she was looking for. This was best done under cover of darkness, to arouse no suspicions. A small pen-light and black clothing which she had in abundance, combined with a clear sky, allowed her to navigate through the burial grounds without anyone noticing.

At last, the determined suicide came upon what she sought.

A large, rectangular stone coffin, raised above the earth.

The tomb and final resting place of Hugh Fraser, 19th-century ambassador to her country from the tea-loving British Isles. A foreign diplomat, enshrined in the manner of his native land on Japan's blessed soil.

No one would ever disturb her here. It was a piece of history. Untouchable. And best of all, virtually forgotten by modern man. Who cared about some long-dead foreigner? Just another corpse, after all.

Truly perfect for her needs.

She didn't do it that night. Instead Misora took the time to examine the requirements for such a task.

The lid of the tomb was heavy, but with proven strength and possibly some leverage from a crowbar, she could hoist it off enough to slip into the confines of the box and then slide the top shut over her. Hopefully there would be enough room, but it certainly appeared large enough from the outside. But continuing: sometime in the last century, a sealant had been applied to the cracks beneath the lid to prevent anyone from casually desecrating the monument's contents. The former FBI member took a sample of the putty used, with the intention of finding a suitable replacement from a local hardware store tomorrow. Once the proper cover-up had been achieved and she was safely ensconced inside, a sufficiently large quantity of sleeping pills, combined with the lack of oxygen, would see her safely dead within a matter of minutes.

It was as neat and tidy a way to kill yourself as could possibly be found.

The following night, with several hours left before her deadline, Naomi arrived around midnight. With tools she had purchased, the fixative was removed and carefully collected, so as not to leave signs of tampering. After almost half an hour of struggling and careful application of a towel-wrapped crowbar, the top of the sarcophagus was levered up and pushed to one side with much sweating and straining. Her limbs were energized by a compulsion that did not balk at any mere mass of weight. It was the impetus of someone focused entirely upon one goal.

Fortunately the stone did not crack from her efforts. After finally managing to get the cover completely raised out of its recess and scooted slightly over, the diligent death-seeker then went about applying a carefully sparing amount of the sealant she had brought along. No sense overdoing it and letting this stuff go squishing out of the sides to be noticed by anybody passing along. This way was clean and virtually invisible. Once she was assured that no odors would be escaping from her deathly bed, Naomi then climbed inside.

There was plenty of space for herself and the ancient coffin within. Reaching up, with a great deal of finger-straining and palm-scraping, she finally managed to maneuver the stone lid into once more sliding over its intended place.

The relief at knowing that she had accomplished such a splendid task hardly lasted a split-second. Now free of all concerns at being disturbed at any future date, the lovely lady popped open a prescription pill bottle belonging to her fiancé, poured out the determined amount of required effectiveness, and washed them down with a swig from a small water canteen she had brought along for this purpose.

She closed her eyes, relaxed, and went to sleep.

Long before the dawn came, Naomi Misora's heart had stilled forever. One more unwitting victim of Kira's to fall on that day, unnoticed.

And thus at last was the slavish compunction of the Death Note fulfilled.

* * *

"You…"

The shortest member of the Kira Task Force seemed to lose his voice for a moment. When he found it, there was something akin to grief in his words.

"You can't… expect us to believe that, can you?"

She gazed right back at him.

Her face, her body, her stance. It all seemed to say one thing.

_Believe it._

The doubter shook, covered his mouth and collapsed, vomit spilling out through his fingers.

"Ide!" His large comrade went down on one knee, placing a hand on the trembling shoulders. Ide had closed his eyes, but after a moment he held up one hand, as if to reassure them all that he was fine.

Fine?

No. None of them was feeling 'fine' at this point.

It was a ludicrous tale, filled with inherently irrational contradictions.

But they believed it.

Maybe because after years of shinigami, Death Notes, and unexpected violent heart attacks afflicting people right in front of their eyes, they were willing to believe a person could be compelled against their will to commit suicide.

But still…

"Miss Misora." Her most troubled viewer, the angry fellow, spoke while wiping a damp sheen of sweat from his stubbly cheeks. "I believe you are who you claim to be, but…"

He looked around, at the Americans, at his associates. And finally, he looked at Light. A glimmer of savage frustration burned in his gaze, and the man swung his head to the side, shouting at the top of his lungs, "EVEN IF WE BELIEVE YOU, IT DOESN'T CHANGE ANYTHING! HOW DO YOU EXPECT TO PROVE A STORY LIKE THAT? IT'S IMPOSSIBLE!"

His despairing cry echoed around the vaulted ceiling.

Alone on his perch, the shinigami laughed, delighting in the performance going on below.

"Aizawa's right."

The calm, broad-chested one seemed to take his turn at speaking. He crossed his arms, tapping the gun still in his hand against one forearm.

"From the beginning, we've been faced with something that didn't seem to fit into our views of a modern, stable world. What kind of a universe is this, if people can just be made to die without any indication of how? It's the sense of not knowing that has always been our greatest enemy here, pushing us to just give up, let it go, run away before we come face-to-face with something that could very well cost us our sanity."

Shuichi flinched, and looked away guiltily. "Dammit, Mogi, how long do I have to keep apologizing for leaving?"

"I'm not singling you out, Aizawa," the detective called Mogi continued. "You acted without our knowledge, and I can't fault you for trying something different. When you're faced with the possibility that a teenage idol-star is a serial killer, and your own boss might be something even worse, I won't deny, some mornings waking up I had to wonder if I could go on existing in a world that permitted such things. If I ever found out the truth, maybe I'd be the first to eat my gun. Who knows?"

There was a thoughtful cast to the Japanese investigator's face. Misora recognized it, so she did not try to interrupt, no matter how urgent a factor time might be. This might be exactly what she needed.

Mogi took a deep breath, and let it out. "We all came here today hoping to put a stop to Kira for good. Near told us it was Light, just like L did years ago. I'm not going to ask for anyone to offer proof just yet, although that time will come, believe me. I think…" He gave a short shake of his head, and looked directly at Misora once more. "I think what we all need here is a little more information to help us understand, and it's only fair to start with you telling us how you can claim to have successfully committed suicide six years ago and be talking to us here today."

She felt them all watching her now. The SPK, the Task Force, even Yagami. But it was only this last person she sought out now.

He had the outward appearance of calm. His arms were folded beneath his head, and in spite of that ridiculous contraption stuck in his mouth, there didn't appear to be a glimmer of self-consciousness in the demeanor of the lead investigator. Light's bearing was as unconcerned as a man sitting in his own home with the radio on, reading a magazine. The hazel orb returned her stare with casual nonchalance.

"You're more right than you realize, Mr. Mogi."

Naomi regarded the prisoner with a decidedly smug cast.

"If you're going to do something, you really should have all the available data you need to see it done right."

She then squatted down, wrapping her arms around her knees and tilting her sable head off to one side to study the twenty-something in a business suit.

"How many times did you get away with it, because you knew something that nobody else did? How often did you laugh to yourself, alone in your room, gloating over having access to information that the rest of us would pay dearly to hold? Did it amuse you, to think of how society handed you everything you needed to commit global genocide without any consideration of it? Just what the hell made you so goddamn sure of yourself, huh?"

Misora's voice was shaking with the intensity of her emotions, in marked contrast to her motionless tormentor. He gave no evidence of being disturbed at all. At the sight of this, the avenging angel had to reign in her justified wrath, resisting the urge to strike the monster or shoot him or spit in his face. She remembered a murmuring, laconic voice heard years ago over a digital feed. That one had never allowed his feelings to get in the way of his duty, and had advised her to obey the same precept.

"This is it, Light," the reincarnated detective told him softly. "This is where you find out where you went wrong."

He didn't even blink. The expression on his face might as well have been saying, _Go ahead. Enlighten me. Not that I really care, I'm just curious. _Such strength, even gagged and humbled on the floor. Seeing him so confident and self-assured, she could finally understand how things could have gotten this bad, for this long.

Naomi knew that type of strength. She had met it before.

And she had beaten it.

Because in the end, strength doesn't solve all problems. Sometimes what you really need to do is sit down, and think. Find the one thing that explains the questions which are plaguing you. And in this case, just like back then, the answer was something unexpected, but reassuringly _good_. Something you gave up, Light, when you first took an innocent life. He knew it, long before you did. He told me so.

It isn't about power, Light.

The thing you lost to was kindness.

"You want to know who saved me?"

They were all tense with anticipation, not even daring to breathe for fear of missing what was about to be said. Even Ryuk leaned forward, his natural curiosity egging him on past anything resembling a removed disposition.

This was going to be so good. Naomi Misora paused, relishing the satisfaction of what she was about to reveal, what had been made clear to her in the whispered voice of a dead man.

"It was Raye."

From his position on the ground, one eye widened slightly. Recognition.

"Raye Penber. The decent man I loved, and you murdered. It's because of him that I am here to put an end to you."

"It's something I forgot to tell you, six years ago…"

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

"No more investigations, that's what you promised me. You're not an FBI agent anymore, Naomi. The only reason you're here is so you can introduce me to your parents."

Raye spoke to her in an earnest, beseeching manner. And as she set the tea down before him, Misora 'Massacre' had to will herself not to launch into an open assault against this condescending attitude he had adopted. Really, sometimes her American fiancée was more of a traditional Japanese husband than he could ever believe.

But as much as she wanted to assert her worth in this situation, the fact of the matter was that she had agreed to refrain from interfering in his case. Not for any reason that would demean her, but simply because she had understood that with what Raye Penber was being required to face in this Kira investigation, the last thing he needed was worrying about what she was doing. Considering their yet-newborn engagement, the prospect of meeting the parents of the woman he loved for the first time, pressure from his superiors to perform up to her own demonstrated level of ability, and the daunting task of tracking down a magic murderer, that was a lot for anyone to shoulder.

And when Naomi looked into the worn, weary eyes of the man who had asked for her hand, she recognized that he was struggling under those burdens.

"I just haven't gotten that through my head yet. I'm sorry, Raye, I shouldn't be treating you like a junior agent."

"It's okay. No trouble."

And he laughed it off, that tender smile touching his face with a glow that only showed in her presence. Not for the first time, his former comrade and now future wife remembered what it was about him that had drawn her to Penber. It wasn't just that he treated her with a respect and interest that had been noticeably lacking from anyone else during her time in America. The first time they met, the native U.S. citizen looked at her like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. In a good way. As if he had always carried around some mediocre idea of what to expect from life, and suddenly the world had thrown him a fabulous surprise party in the form of Naomi Misora.

It was only after their relationship had progressed to him getting down on one knee and offering a ring that her suitor had dared to admit he had loved Naomi from that first instant.

Being rather lacking in terms of aspirations, she had never honestly expected something like this to happen. There had been men in her life; she was no blushing virgin, after all. But when Raye had tried in his fumbling, determined way to express what she meant to him, something had suddenly dawned on the object of his affection. Without even really trying, she had brought hope into this man's life. Beyond advancing in a job or pleasing his superiors, this caring and concerned individual had come to regard her, Naomi Misora, as a necessary part of his daily routine. Perhaps in that respect it wasn't terribly romantic, but if you delved deeper, you would come to the conclusion that, unless heknew that she was doing well and not in any distress, Raye couldn't find peace.

It might have been an early realization of this fact that had driven him to approach her in a more than professional capacity. Misora recalled their first attempt at conversation being awkward on her part, wondering what this attractive stranger was doing conversing with her in their office building. Raye smiled at every word she spoke, as though the mere fact that she paid attention to him brought buckets of happiness showering all over his heart.

Naomi had never tried to fall in love before. For several weeks even after the topic of marriage had become a looming reality on her calendar year, there had been an impression that if she wanted to, _really_ wanted to, all she had to do was walk away. There would be no great loss on her part. Hardly anything in her life warranted the sort of deliberation that was necessary to determine whether or not she would want to go on without it. That was the world she lived in.

But following her dramatic experiences in California, there had been a profound shift in Misora's world view. It wasn't directly concerning Raye and what he made her feel. Rather, it was more like she had been given solid, clear-cut proof that her existence mattered. _She _was… worthwhile. Her life made a difference to people beyond a momentary encounter or reaffirmation of their own demonstrable being. With some surprise, for the first time ever Naomi fully saw the benefit that came to others from her having chosen to involve herself with them.

And that made the young woman realize that she was loved.

It was so good to know, she wanted to make that feeling official.

There just happened to be a guy more than willing to go along with that wish. Naomi loved him so much for that, living without it didn't make much sense anymore.

So here they were.

And suddenly Raye was miserable.

THAT much was obvious to anyone, even a trained federal investigator who had nearly suffered all her imagination and creativity to be sucked out by a bloated patriarchy of a horrific job. Her fiancée was looking like the loaded camel who dreaded being told that they only needed to add one more bit of straw to his hump.

All right, Misora. You're the world-famous detective. Figure out what exactly you can do about this.

Throw him onto the bed and screw his brains out?

Plan B, let's call that.

"Like I said before," Raye continued speaking, "As soon as we get some kids of our own running about, you'll have to find reserves of energy that the Bureau could never tap, no matter how they tried."

His fiancée didn't know whether to be amused or insulted by that comment.

The clueless smile on Penber's face never faltered, though. "But for right now, why don't you grill me on the best method of hitting it off with your father, Miss Investigator? _That_ is going to be a scarier confrontation than if I met Kira himself on the subway."

She couldn't help it. This time Naomi did laugh.

He did too. For a while. Then that drained look came back over his features, and he rested his head in his hands, rubbing his temples slowly.

"Honest to God, beautiful, I'm stressing about this wedding and everything it's going to involve like the Sword of Damocles is hanging over my head. If my nerves give out at any time over the next couple of weeks, do you promise to get me professional help? It can be Freudian or acupuncture, I won't say no, believe me."

Worried now, Misora attempted to lighten the mood. "You turned down a quick nuptials in Vegas, remember? I believe the expression you used was 'the whole shebang'."

"I didn't know what I was getting myself into!" Raye chuckled half-heartedly. "Cakes and announcements, formalities and licenses, ceremonies and trip confirmations and rehearsal feasts and cancellations! Plus add on the mental anguish of worrying if everything will go off without a hitch and we'll actually find ourselves married in another two months without some god-awful catastrophe arriving to spoil the wedding before you can say 'I do'. It's a wonder our ancestors ever got married at all, if they had to deal with half of these intricacies in addition to fending off the occasional saber-toothed tiger. They should all have been dead of heart attacks!"

She had never seen Raye look this beaten. Not even after failing the qualifying tests for an administrative position.

Sorry, girl. Plan B just isn't going to cut it in this situation.

What he needs is one less distraction.

It means foregoing the huge important spectacle that every little girl dreams of, but hey, I've always been a pretty down-to-earth kind of gal, as he calls me. And this is something I know I can do without a qualm.

"Raye."

His eyes travelled over to latch onto her, and in spite of everything, her boyfriend smiled.

"Yeah?"

Misora stood up.

"Let's get married. Today."

Penber stared at her fixedly.

"Naomi, are you high?"

"No," she responded, holding out her hands. "I'm perfectly reasonable. Think about it: we're not missing out on anything this way. We can still have the huge expensive wedding that both of our parents have been planning and dreading since we were born. But while it's getting to that point, we can face it without the needless frustrations that come from wondering if everything will go off smoothly and we'll actually be husband and wife when it's done."

When the FBI investigator made no move to accept her offering, Misora 'Massacre' came to the fore, on full battle readiness. Crossing over to him, she placed her warm hands over his own and drew him purposefully to his feet.

"It's still early in the day. I have some acquaintances in the justice department over in Shinjuku. We make a quick phone call, find a willing judge, and have the magistrate give us a nice quick civil ceremony in time to go out for dinner. The forms will be officially registered by tomorrow morning at the latest. Afterwards, we can celebrate in the way that a man and a woman normally do after getting married."

That part caught his attention, and Raye's firm embrace encircled her waist in a possessive fashion.

"You'd be willing to do that for me?" he whispered incredulously.

"For both of us," she corrected. "I'm looking to mitigate how bad our first major wedded squabble is going to be, and this seems like an excellent way to reduce the stress building up to that moment."

Apparently her forceful personality won out over his complacent one, for a fire lit her lover's eyes an enduring glow, and he kissed Naomi with a desperate passion which she accepted whole-heartedly.

Running his fingers through her long black hair, the gallant young man stepped back and marveled at the beauty that lay before him, cupping her smiling face.

"I love you, Naomi Misora."

And she clasped her hands over his.

"That's 'Naomi Penber' after today, my husband."

* * *

Light wasn't looking at her anymore.

Instead his slightly widened gaze had drifted over to stare at the side of the building far away from them. She could see the muscles in his throat working back and forth, and a vein pulsing in his left temple.

With an inhuman cackle, Ryuk dropped down and sauntered through the room. Several names and dates swam over the heads of the mortals arrayed around him. And sure enough, dancing above the gleaming ebony crown of the woman holding Light hostage was the kanji spelling out two words.

'_Penber'. 'Naomi'. _

She bent down, and murmured into the man-child's ear, loud enough for everyone else to still catch her words.

"What's in a name, right, Light? Is it how you call yourself, or how you think of yourself? If you wed someone, and they give you their name, does it just change you, or maybe even your whole destiny?"

No response came from him, whether by sight or sound. Naomi was not really expecting one.

"You killed me prematurely, six years ago. Apparently, you need a person's real name in order to murder them. A mere alias or title won't do. But what if they change their name, in a way that ties them to another person's heart and soul, recognized and sanctioned even by the state in which we live? Does that actually alter their life, their very being, down to a level that even a Death Note would have a hard time distinguishing between the two?"

"I think we both know the answer to that question, Mr. Yagami." Naomi Penber brushed a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. "Raye Penber gave me his name, and in doing so, he saved me from you. I never bothered to have my identification changed, and it completely slipped my mind after he died. That's why the ID I showed you on that day had 'Naomi Misora' on it. And that _was_ my name. For the last twenty odd years. Enough for your murder pad to work, and place a spell on me that caused my death less than two days later. My life ended. But the one that I was supposed to live, with Raye, the one you stole from me? THAT one started three months ago. And in that life, I hunted down Kira, and brought him to justice."

At least, so I hope.

It all depends on whether or not I have it in me to fool an actual god of death.

She saw Light Yagami's head turn, the rubber blockage still in his mouth, and come to rest on the floor once more, his arms crossed beneath him.

Surrender?

Comprehension?

Murder?

Impossible to say.

I have to push him.

At that moment, Near spoke up.

"I'm afraid that you'll have to be more forthcoming."

Everyone turned to regard him, herself included. He made a gesture, and the SPK agents finally lowered their sights off of Naomi.

"Miss Penber," the abnormal toy-enthusiast droned on, "You've just narrated a telling that is illuminating on a number of levels. According to you, Kira remains unfamiliar with all the rules of his Death Note. In addition, different names can be used to kill the same person, provided certain criteria are met. I have to wonder if someone born without a given name at all would be susceptible to a Note's influence, or if a shinigami would even be able to see a name in addition to their time of death."

"But all that is irrelevant, because it involves no proof."

Two of his fingers were now capped by rubber puppets, depicting himself and Kira. "From the start of this investigation, there has been an unspoken complicity between the two sides that, if evidence exposing Kira is ever found, that damning material in our eyes might be insufficient to arrest anyone according to international law. While discussions about forming a judicial body to specifically deal with the matter of a supernatural killer have been going on for years, at the present date, nothing has ever come from it. Mainly because the possible magistrates for such a body have balked at the idea of opposing Kira, even in such a forethoughtful manner."

The dolls pointed at both her and Light Yagami.

"You claim to be an eye-witness to Kira's confession and a victim in one. What I want to hear is, what do you expect to result from this accusation?"

_What do you want us to do about it?_

That's what he was asking.

A few times in her life, Naomi Penber had been asked that question. Usually by people in authority, and she had realized early on that the question was its own answer.

Whenever someone asks something like 'What do you expect to result from this?' what they're telling you is 'We can't do anything about it'.

And that was a very irritating thing to hear, especially for someone who had been murdered and was looking for a little justice.

She realized then that this kid bothered her, and it would be nice to tell him so.

"Near?"

He let his head drag off to one side. "Yes?"

"Shut your stupid mouth."

It was the air of total calm that Penber assumed when making this statement that lent it such singular force. Even Yagami's eyes widened in surprise at hearing it; or perhaps pleasure, who could tell? He still had his face pressed into the gritty concrete.

"I don't expect a single worthwhile thing from you," the woman continued. "You showed me exactly what you are capable of accomplishing about ten minutes ago, and that's jack-shit. And that goes for the rest of you as well." She then turned accusing eyes on the rest of the people in the room. "After everything you've seen and heard, I get the feeling that all of you are treating this as some sort of exercise in detective work. Looking for clues that will allow you to be 100% certain of everything before you are willing to make a move or reach a decision. You're behaving like a jury sent out to deliberate, and while you're arguing amongst each other, the criminal on trial simply walks out of the room and proceeds to engage in a massacre."

"Hey!" Matsuda interjected at this point.

"What gives you the right to act so high-and-mighty?" The blonde lady was regarding her with a measure of dislike now. "We don't even know for sure who or what you are just yet."

"My point exactly." Naomi shot a disgusted look back. "You're hamstrung by your expectations. And in a way, I suppose that's partly L's fault. He treated this like a case waiting to be solved, and everyone else just went along with it. You wanted to find out the reason for why these things kept happening, not just who was doing them. Human curiosity was on the line. I'm betting you rationalized it by saying that if you didn't figure out Kira's power, there was always a chance someone else in the future could replicate his feat, leaving the world holding its breath once again."

She then made a gesture at the notebook Near was holding. "But you found the answer. Even afterwards, you all behaved as if you just needed one more clue and everything would suddenly fall into place. That's exactly what got L killed. Looking at this in terms of guilt and trials and preponderance of evidence is precisely what has been holding you back all these years."

"Holding us back how?" Ide interjected.

Those deep black eyes now locked upon him. The depth of coldness in them left the grown man wishing he had chosen to hold his tongue, like a child giving the wrong answer at school.

"With everything that was at stake, and the whole world falling into the clutches of a murderous fear-god, the minute you found someone who had a good shot of being Kira, you should have killed them yourself."

That statement left a very deep hole in the conversation.

On the floor, Light Yagami seemed to curl in upon himself.

The icy angel looming over him did not seem to take notice. But at her back, Ryuk straightened to attention.

Was this heading where he thought it was?

"And that's why, when you ask me what I expect to come from this little conclave of yours, I respond that I intend to see Light Yagami die today."

Just like that, the situation in the room seemed to go back in time. Once more, the black weapons in their hands trained on her.

Naomi did not flinch.

Had it happened yet?

"What needs to happen in this world," she spoke slowly and clearly now so that all of them could discern her words, "is that one person accepts the need to perform an act that society considers evil, in order to do away with something that threatens the core of society itself."

"We will shoot, Naomi Penber."

Aizawa said it, and she believed him. But the dark-garbed outcast behaved as if she hadn't heard. "I know that many of you remain unconvinced by my recitation, if indeed even one of you is. It's not essential that I survive this day, after all. I'm ready to die here as I have before, if that is what you need to sleep easier at night. All I'm really asking is for you to doubt your most cherished convictions long enough to let me see this through."

"No." Mogi shook his head.

"It doesn't work that way." One of the Americans offered that.

"We can't condone a murder," another explained.

The Task Force was dividing their attention between her and Light. The SPK was doing the same, except substituting Near in place of the Kira suspect. Neither one of the two males was reacting to her declarations in any perceivable way.

The boy just studied her dispassionately, as if considering the merits of her argument.

The man stayed curled up in a ball.

Unmoving.

Unafraid.

Almost like…

Like he was waiting for something.

And suddenly Naomi knew.

The conviction was so strong, more certain than love or truth. She rejoiced in this feeling, greater and more fulfilling even than that moment years ago when a simple bump to the back of her head had caused all the unanswered questions to fall neatly into place, leading an off-duty FBI agent to the truth behind the most diabolical murders she had ever witnessed.

It made her smile to remember it.

She had what she needed now.

Thank you, Mr. Yagami.

"You really won't let me kill him?"

Her words fell as casually as if nothing could ever be wrong.

"No." Several voices chorused.

Bunch of idiots.

I suppose there really is no other way to do it, if you are all I have to rely on.

"Light?"

His shoulders twitched.

Very carefully, Naomi raised the gun.

"Stop!" someone called authoritatively. But it had no effect.

Her berretta came up.

"Would you do me a favor, please?"

She was still smiling when she said it, and the young man's head turned slightly to take in what was about to happen.

Standing above him, cool and calm and beautiful, the resurrected Naomi Misora was holding a gun to her own temple.

Everyone else was focusing on her at that moment as well.

Because of this, none of them saw the look of glee that passed over his features.

"Don't do it!" Matsuda screamed, pleading with her.

"STOP!" Aizawa sounded absolutely horrified. In his mind's-eye, he once more saw L crumpling silently to the floor, as though a sniper had felled him. A life cut short, like so many others. Briefly, a thought flashed through his head.

A person who fails to commit suicide is forty times more likely to try again, and succeed.

Most of them weren't pointing their guns at her anymore. Not that it mattered. This was how she wanted to do this.

Seconds ticked away.

She never stopped smiling.

"Would you… tell me what time it is?"

Her fingers then opened, allowing the gun to slip through them.

The sound of it striking the floor was followed by complete and total silence.

Several more seconds passed.

And Light's eyes widened.

When she saw this, Naomi smirked, and dove upon him.

The madman struggled beneath her, and several people cried out against this, but thankfully, no shots were fired. Her training in martial arts came to the fore, allowing the determined warrior to swiftly subjugate her foe in a submission hold. As he grunted and flailed, she then did the only thing that made sense.

And that was to slip the watch smoothly off his wrist.

At the same time, her prisoner managed to yank the gag off.

"DON'T!"

He scrabbled to an upright position, and whipped about.

Her foot slammed into his face.

Yagami went down, clutching his injury, and before anyone could lay hands on her Naomi Penber put that time to good use.

Seconds later, she had figured it out.

A secret compartment came open. She held the timekeeping device up for all to see.

The closest was one of the Americans, just a few feet away from her. But as his target lifted her prize, he came to an abrupt halt.

All the shouting quickly died out.

"What is…?"

It wasn't clear who spoke. But to answer their question, Penber slowly and carefully reached into the hatch, and removed something folded up there.

A small piece of paper.

No need to check. She knew what she would find. Instead, the quiet crusader handed the scratch of parchment off to the foreigner standing to her left.

He took it hesitantly, and Naomi then proceeded to crouch down before her most hated enemy.

"Would you please read what is written there?"

For this, she wanted to see the boy's face once more.

Light didn't move, only pressed a hand to his bleeding lip.

The look on his face no longer counted as human.

A death sentence was then read.

"Naomi Penber."

But this time, it wasn't her own.

"Gunshot."

Nothing more happened then for a period that seemed too long and yet hardly noticeable.

Then the agent who had spoken trod numbly, almost wonderingly, into the midst of the two gangs of men and women, holding the offending article up like a scorpion that might sting him at any moment.

Detectives from both sides of the Pacific gathered around him. They stared at the innocuous slip, understanding that here, at last, was something they had only hoped to see.

The name of the victim was hastily scrawled in a red substance, while the manner of death seemed to be in pen and far more serene in execution, possibly having been written beforehand.

"It's real."

It didn't burn away in their hands or mysteriously vanish or anything like that. The shinigami's handiwork was as solid and determined as any piece of material evidence they had ever handled.

Aizawa swallowed in a dry throat.

"This means that…"

Behind Naomi Penber, she heard someone give a dry chuckle.

Glancing over her shoulder allowed the revenant detective to come face-to-face with an actual god of death.

"You know," the goggle-eyed misfit smirked, "I can honestly say I don't have a clue what's going on here, and somehow I'm still having fun. You humans really are great!"

Before she could reply, Matsuda screamed.

"LIGHT!"

There was a rush of movement, and someone grunted in exertion. Then Light Yagami dove forward, snatching up her gun from where it lay. In a flash, the talented athlete was on his feet, one arm wrapping around Naomi's waist. The muzzle of her pistol dug into her side forcefully.

Their role reversal was completed a few seconds later, when every other officer in the room trained their weapons on the criminal and his hostage.

Behind her, the handsome youth panted slightly, carefully crouching at her back to take maximum advantage of his shield for protection. His hold on her was firm, and there was no doubt that he was once more in control of himself.

A few moments later, this was confirmed when a hoarse voice addressed them all.

"I think we all see where this is going. You don't have to be a genius to figure it out."

And he chuckled, in a manner similar to his deathly familiar.

Still splayed out on the cold pavement, Near's head rose a fraction.

"Kira," he whispered.

For just a moment, an eye gleamed malevolently over at him, and then passed over the child, as if once and for all discarding this slight form from all consideration.

Kira peered out at the posse drawing beads on him.

"But whatever you might be feeling right now, I want you to consider a few things."

One of the SPK seemed about to speak, but halted at the sight of the livid half-visage whose burning-eyed gaze held them riveted.

"To start off, I don't know what you think you have there, but it certainly isn't a Death Note fragment. And if you don't believe me, you can feast your eyes on this nice young _bishoujo_ I'm currently standing behind. Whatever you might think of her in terms of intelligence, it should be fairly obvious to you that she is not currently dead. So that slip means nothing."

"Unless you didn't know that when you wrote it," Naomi spoke up.

The gun jammed tightly into her black leather coat. Its hostage remained perfectly motionless, offering no threat whatsoever.

"Let's not go trading off here, Naomi, we might start to confuse some of the less intellectually gifted among us. If you continue to interr…"

"You wouldn't shoot me just yet, Light. After all, I haven't told you what went wrong."

That drew Kira up short. Humanity's judge paused to consider the implications of this. Before he could voice his opposition or agreement to that statement, though, she beat him to it.

"I mentioned I came back three months ago, but I never told you how. That's certainly something out of your experience, am I right?"

When an answer was again not forthcoming, her lidded eyes flicked over to the death god on duty.

"And you claimed to be a bit puzzled yourself, Mr…?

"Ryuk," the spectral spectator supplied. "Nice to meet you, Naomi _Penber_."

"That feeling won't last. I'm somewhat caustic around strangers."

He blinked. This woman was being held at gunpoint by the single most prolific mass murderer in all of history, and for some reason, there didn't appear to be a hint of anxiety in her.

Just what the hell _was_ going on here, anyway?

"Let's begin with the Death Note slip there. Now, if Ryuk would be so kind as to offer confirmation whenever possible, I'm guessing that once a person's name is inscribed on those pages, their death becomes unavoidable by any means. Only the time is a factor."

The watch dangled from her grip still, and Naomi gave it a harmless shake, as if to emphasize this statement.

Not wanting to be left out, Ryuk chimed in. "Yeah, that's pretty much the gist of it."

At her back, she could feel Kira tense, and a low snarl made its way from his throat.

"What?" the perennially bored apparition sniffed. "I'm under no obligation to anyone in this room. Just one thing I'm required to do as a shinigami in this situation. Right?"

That sentence apparently had the affect of dampening the killer's wrath.

It did not go unnoticed by Penber.

So it's true, then.

You should have chosen your allies better, Light.

She continued without giving these thoughts away.

"Getting back to my being here, I actually owe it to a person who must remain nameless, simply because I don't know their name. They broke me out of whatever limbo I was experiencing in that tomb, and gave me the strength to free myself. I had forgotten everything about who I am; Naomi Misora didn't exist anymore, after all. She was voided. But my savior saw my predicament, and gave me exactly what I needed. A name."

The armed law enforcement agents were sweating and shifting through this recitation. Their attention strayed between the woman and her assailant, hidden behind the black silhouette. One of them, Mogi, made as if to move off to the side, and immediately Kira's hold tightened visibly, causing him to rethink this maneuver.

None of this deterred her.

"I remembered everything about who I was supposed to be, then. And some other things as well. There was knowledge in my head that hadn't been present before or after death. Rules that dealt specifically with me, and what I had become."

She glanced once more over at the shinigami hovering on the edge of her vision.

"Ryuk, by any chance are you familiar with the term 'eidolon'?"

He blinked. "You want to repeat that one more time?"

"Eidolon."

"No, can't say that I am," he rasped desultorily.

Bless you, Ryuk.

"An eidolon," Penber continued as if she were not facing death, "is 'a spirit that has returned to inhabit a body'. I'm quoting verbatim here, mind you. This should not be confused with actual resurrection. Another rule that seemed to apply to me was, 'Once dead, a human cannot be brought back'."

Ryuk's head jerked up. "Hey, that one I do remember reading."

Damn.

Why couldn't you be totally ignorant?

"You know," the poltergeist continued lazily, "if I had the manual, I could look up this whole 'eidolon' thing you mentioned. Studying was never my strong suit."

She tried to keep the terror out of her voice.

"Is there anything preventing you from doing that?"

"Well, actually, yeah."

Relief.

"Mortals are permitted to own and use Death Notes, but not the manual. You couldn't see it even if you tried. And anyway, my guidebook's kinda out of reach right now. I have to remain in the human world, but I can't disclose the reason for that either. Unless it's something you'd like to share with us."

"Afraid not," Naomi shrugged nonchalantly. "As I said, I picked up a few points of interest, but something told me I didn't get all of them. Light probably knows more about the rules than I do."

She had told her first lie.

While interested in the direction this was taking, Kira was not blessed with infinite reserves of patience.

"Excuse me," he hissed in clipped tones, "this is all quite fascinating, but perhaps you could get to the point. Our friends are looking somewhat worse for wear."

"You're right. Time is running out." So saying, Naomi resumed her telling. "Whatever the similarities, an eidolon is not one of the living. And so neither am I. I breathe, my heart beats, but certain prerogatives of life are denied to me. 'No eidolon can be a bearer of life or death'. What that means is that this body is unable to bear children. But more unusual than that, I am prevented from directly taking another person's life. It's impossible for me to kill anyone, whether by natural or supernatural means. Even a Death Note is useless to me for that purpose."

She cast an amused glance behind her. "I'm afraid all that drama with the gun was just for show, Light. You were never in any peril from me. But it was necessary to make you think you were."

Kira's eyes met hers, and there was clearly no relief in them at learning that.

"You're rather well-informed this time around, aren't you, _Miss_ Penber?"

Fatally, I hope.

"Not my choice. Another set of rules had to do with my new existence. 'An eidolon can die by human hands, but not shinigami'. I took it to mean that a Death Note was as useless against me as it was for me. The Note can't kill someone more than once, you might say. Seems pretty obvious when you put it like that."

Kira turned an accusing glare on Ryuk, who merely shrugged, as if to say, '_What do you want to hear? This is news to me as well._' The interest displayed by the wraith was not feigned. He was learning something that he hadn't been privy to before.

The arisen avenger let a smile touch her lips.

"I believe this illustrates the point I was making before, how you should have all the relevant information before making a decision. I'm afraid you were a bit quick on the draw back there, Light. I suspected that unless an explicit unforeseen threat was directed against you, you wouldn't dare to use any fragments of the Note to murder anyone while you were here, for fear that it would be taken as confirmation of your identity. But when I started talking about killing you, your self-preservation instincts kicked in, and you tried to finish me before I could get the chance. That was your fatal mistake."

Kira snickered then.

"Well, that's very informative, Miss Penber. I thank you for the analysis of previous events. But unless you have any more cryptic secrets to reveal, I'm going to make a few things clear myself."

When she did not respond, he rose up to his full height, and regarded the score of killing tools being leveled at him with clear disdain.

"It's perfectly obvious just by looking at all of you that you're willing to buy anything she has to offer. I'm disappointed, but not surprised. If that monotone cherub over there is any indication, you lot would trust your fates in the hands of anyone who professed to know more than you. L certainly stamped that into my comrades, and Americans are not exactly known for refusing authority figures."

"But before one of you trigger-happy followers gets any ideas, I'd like to ask what you think the long-term results of all this will be."

He pressed the gun now at the base of Naomi's skull. "Think about it. You've all been striving for years to defeat Kira. But what exactly has Kira done that is so wrong? He's freed us all from the tyranny of the wicked and profane. Brought justice into a world that knew only a paltry shadow of the idea. If Kira hadn't arisen, humanity would still be lumbering around in the same deluded, short-sighted, self-obsessed manner it always has."

"But he _did _come!" Kira's voice was growing in passion and volume. "With the conviction and purpose that was absent in so-called leaders of today, who merely voice empty promises and are expected to accomplish only the smallest fraction of their vows, if any. Kira set forth to change our world for the better, and so he has! Aizawa…!" Those flaring eyes turned upon the apostate. "The world your children have grown up in for the past five years is significantly safer, more civilized, and more peaceful than the one you were prepared to hand over to them, is it not?"

His jaw clenched, and Aizawa took careful aim at a point just past Naomi's ear. "You son of a bitch, don't you dare mention my kids or I'll…!"

"_Kill me and all that will come to an end!_" Yagami roared, causing them to flinch. "Whom are you going to do it for, anyway? This self-confessed zombie, who can't even produce offspring of her own? Or that pasty-faced idiot-savant crouching in the dirt, who if put out into society would be totally incapable of functioning and be dead within a week? They don't even _live_ in the same world as us, of course they don't mind if things go back to the rotting mess they used to be! Do you think that your families and friends will _thank_ you when you explain how wars are coming back into style, and murderers and thieves are once more permitted to ravish the innocent without fear? How many times has someone you loved been spared as a result of the deaths of truly wicked people, I ask you?"

They were thinking about it. She could see it in their eyes. He was starting to win some of them over.

It's a shame you're wooing the wrong suitor, Light.

Her eyes stole down to inspect the watch still in her hand.

There are actually _three_ people in this room who don't have to live in this world.

He was almost screaming now. "_Kira's rule is the only thing that can raise man up from the savagery he has clung to for millennia!_ There is no such thing as an 'acceptable evil'! Anyone who seeks to prosper at the cost of truth and righteousness must be destroyed, or they will simply exist as examples to future generations of how we permit such abominations to live, because we are afraid to eradicate them! If you do not want to see that happen, if you truly believe in a better future for us all, then you must look to Kira, who understands what you secretly wish to…"

"Light?"

The rant cut off.

Her voice was soft in comparison to his blasting tirade, but something in its quality caused him to take notice.

And Naomi did it again.

"You might want to save your breath, because unless I miss my guess, you're going to be dead in precisely three minutes."

The breath caught in his throat.

Slowly, the glossy head turned, and eyes blacker than a carrion crow's regarded him without a trace of emotion.

"What?" Kira gasped.

She then held up the watch so that he could see.

"Judging by the relative time of my death threat and how you reacted at a certain point, you were expecting me to die of a gunshot wound at about ten minutes, twenty-five seconds past the hour. Right?"

He didn't deny it. Instead something unpleasant made itself known around Kira's scheming little eyes.

Fear. Perhaps at the prospect of yet another unheard-of revelation to fall from his victim's lips.

She gave it to him.

"Did you know that Raye Penber was part Apache on his grandfather's side?" She didn't wait for an obvious negative, but bulled on ahead. "Well, in the traditions of that people, there's a type of mythological clan called a 'phratry'. Several of them exist, and each person is supposed to belong to one. Nothing to really distinguish between two members of the same phratry. But Raye did tell me something interesting."

The wickedest smile she could manage then graced Naomi Penber's lips.

"Apparently, if a tribal witch attempts to curse someone who belongs to the same phratry as themselves, the spell will have no affect on the target. And worse than that, it will automatically rebound and kill the witch who cast it."

The necromancer stared at her with wide, mesmerized eyes, looking very much like a kid entranced by the recitation of a fairy tale.

"Before Naomi Misora died, she forgot to tell you she was married until it was too late. In honor of that, here's another little secret I didn't impart to you at a more convenient time."

What came out of her mouth next shocked everyone in the room, no exceptions.

" 'If a human writes the name of an eidolon in a Death Note, that human will die…'"

Kira gaped like a landed fish.

"… 'in the manner prescribed by themselves, at a point in time thirteen minutes after the failed attempt'."

Her killer looked at Naomi in a very peculiar manner. Like she was a dog that had just suddenly started speaking. Several things must be coursing through his magnificent brain, she thought. Karma. Justice. Suspicion. Disbelief. Of course, there was nothing to make him believe that what she had just told him was true. After all, she had every reason to lie.

Except...

The Death Note, his unassailable killing tool, had inexplicably failed to carry out its mission. For the first time ever, someone he himself placed under the guillotine blade had NOT died. And on top of that, here was this woman he knew went to her prearranged death years ago, standing there mocking him with her tone and her very existence!

There were things about the Note that even he, Kira, did not know. And he thought that in all these years he must have figured most of them out, but...

What if she was telling the truth?

Whom could he turn to for aid here?

There was really only one alternative, wasn't there, Light?

As she thought this, they all saw Kira's attention dart over and affix upon the leering lich standing off to one side.

"Ryuk..."

A most disturbing chuckle came from the being in question. Kira went on, ignoring the interruption.

"Is what she's saying true?"

That emaciated visage turned to regard its long-time associate. It did this for the space of a few seconds.

"So you're talking to me out loud, now, Light?"

"_Don't waste my time!_" the revolutionary hissed. "Answer me, am I going to die like she said?"

"Like she said?"

Ryuk's thoughtful gaze fixed upon the resurrected female motionless in Kira's grasp.

Those black eyes clashed with the red ones, each trying to read the other's intentions.

Naomi Penber gave nothing away.

It's all up to him, now.

"Well," the death god drawled, "I gotta tell you, Light, she certainly threw me for a loop today. If you'd asked me before whether or not somebody could come back from the dead, I'd have told you no, without a doubt. But here one is. Gotta say, she did a good job tricking you into exposing yourself today. I don't think even you would have been willing to risk yourself in the same way she did, letting someone write your actual name in a Death Note. And you have to admit, it didn't do a thing."

"_Dammit, spit it out! Is that Death Note going to kill me?"_

The God of the New World sounded quite panicked right now. He must be feeling every passing second with a greater clarity and foresight than ever before in his life.

After all, each one might be his last.

The wasted skull cocked to one side, and something akin to a frown passed over it.

Ryuk looked almost... hesitant.

When this happened, Naomi casually held up the watch, tapping it to emphasize something.

Those fleshless features contracted into worry.

Can you do it, Ryuk? Are you honestly willing to risk it?

What have you been waiting for, all this time? What's your purpose in being here?

When do you stop being an observer, and have to obey the precepts of a shinigami?

What do you have to lose?

I think we both know.

"No."

Several people holding their breaths without realizing it let them out simultaneously.

Ryuk shook his head. "You don't have to worry about dying from that woman's schemes, Light."

She could see it, then, out the corner of one eye. The simple, unaltered relief that settled over Kira's features, secure in the knowledge that he remained in control of his destiny, and was beholden to no one. All thanks to the one ally he could always depend on.

And then, quite suddenly, Ryuk pulled out his own Death Note. A skull-tipped pen appeared between his fingers.

The look on Kira's face changed to one of confusion.

It was almost heart-breaking, how human he seemed right then.

"After all," the shinigami commented airily, "I do believe I told you years ago how this would all end for us."

A horrible presentiment seemed to sweep throughout the occupants of that room.

The face of death himself stood at the center of that dawning epiphany.

"Ryuk…" he choked out.

His corpse-like compatriot turned his eyes to the open pad before him, and began to write.

"Mr. Light… Ya-ga-mi…"

"No, don't," Kira pleaded faintly. "It's a trick, it has to be…"

Ryuk continued without pause. "The date: January 28, 2010. The time…"

"STOP IT!" The cool voice was broken and high-pitched now, on the verge of tears. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS, I WON'T ALLOW IT!"

The black handgun swept up and fixed upon his longtime partner.

"When he…"

A shot broke the ghoul's speech just as it finished writing.

"…fires upon me."

Still held in Kira's deathly embrace, the eidolon felt him stiffen with a sharp gasp.

She turned to regard her captor fully.

Light Yagami's face had gone pale. A moment later, her pistol fell from his outstretched hand. At the same time, his other arm let go, and went to clutch at his chest. The handsome face jerked, transforming into a pain-filled rictus. Teeth clenched, eyes popping out of their sockets, Light reached his free hand out in supplication to the uncaring phantasm that had so casually condemned him to death.

Ryuk's Death Note closed shut with a snap.

In that instant, his earthly counterpart collapsed.

The released hostage spun about and caught hold of him as he fell. None of the other detectives moved, seemingly rooted to their spots. Because of this, the man and woman were left alone in that tableau.

She slowly went to her knees, supporting his dying figure in black-clad arms. Light's body twitched, heels drumming arrhythmically on the dank stone as he settled to earth, resting in her lap.

Naomi cradled her enemy's head in the crook of one arm. His open eyes drifted over to find her, filled with so many questions and so much promise.

Some things just couldn't be allowed, no matter how much potential they might have.

She took his hand, encasing it in the one which still held a watch that had now served to mark both of their dooms. The man's mouth moved, whispering something his attendant alone could hear.

Sadly, the black-haired beauty then bent down, and did that which she had impulsively thought about when first laying eyes upon this breathtaking young god-given-flesh over six years ago.

This was a kiss, soft and brief, shared between them both. What it signified was known only to each other, whether it be desire, promise or farewell.

When Naomi pulled away, her departure drew the last breath out with it.

Light Yagami, faceless master of an unwitting world, lay dead in the lap of his long-forgotten enemy.

In an unremarkable edifice on a day like any other, what would come to be known as history's Second Reign of Terror at last came to a close.

Kira had been slain.

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

Naomi Penber laid the body of Light Yagami on its back. He really had been beautiful, she reflected. Beautiful, and vain. A virtual Lucifer in form and function. I wish we could have known each other under different circumstances, she thought.

"Is he dead?"

It might have been the youngster Matsuda who spoke. He sounded almost heart-broken. As if he couldn't decide one way or another what to hope the answer might be.

That boy's going to be taken advantage of by the first person he falls in love with, she thought. Best to give him a taste of reality.

"Yes."

Her voice brought this pandemic murder mystery to a close.

"Kira is dead."

As she did, Naomi suddenly realized something.

The shinigami was no longer there.

Rising and looking about, her attention was caught by how all the rest of her colleagues were glancing over to where Near sat. It was easy to discern why.

Over the boy there now hovered the source of all their troubles.

The name it gave itself was Ryuk.

One last thing I have to do here, the young woman decided.

She drew a measuring glance upon the foreign counterparts.

"I assume all of you touched that scrap of Note sometime in the last few minutes. So we're all seeing the same thing. There's still a shinigami in the room."

They all gave nods, continuing to stare in dire concern at the snowy super-detective and his looming antithesis.

For his part, Ryuk favored them with a friendly wave, like acknowledging old friends.

"Kinda nice to have more than one person to talk to again," he rasped nonchalantly. "Even somebody as entertaining as Light can get old after a while. Guess that's part of the reason he's a cooling corpse right now."

At this, several members of the Kira Task Force levered affronted expressions his way.

"You…!"

Matsuda choked on his words. Ryuk chuckled, and this seemed to lend the devoted humanist some necessary impetus. "You killed him, just like that! Why? Weren't the two of you friends or something?"

"_Friends?_" The Halloween mask of a face stretched in pleasure. "Of course we were friends! If we weren't, I would've killed him years ago and let somebody else have the Death Note."

Nobody seemed to know how to respond to this statement, so Ryuk continued uninterrupted.

"We gave each other exactly what we needed. He got to rule the world, and I got the performance of a lifetime, complete with free concessions!" He gave a thoughtful pause, laying a finger upon his chin. "Well, almost free. Sometimes Light really abused my apple dependency. Like insisting on camera sweeps and stuff like that. Still, what the hell! That's what buddies are for, right?"

"So why did you kill him?" Bullock, the other female in the room, appeared the most offended among her group by this callous pronouncement.

Ryuk opened his mouth to answer, and Penber beat him to it.

"He thought he had to."

Now everyone was looking at her again. Really, who was in charge of this show? It's not over, whatever you might think.

"Ryuk has been waiting for a long time to take the life of his Death Note's owner. Isn't that right?"

Those spindly arms crossed over the broad chest, and its feathered shoulders ruffled slightly. "Actually, yeah. He knew it, too. From the start, I made it clear that I would be the one to kill him once our collaboration was over. Light seemed very understanding of the premise back then. Not that it showed much at the end. Still, I don't begrudge him a little screaming fit. He was keeping everything bottled up for so long, it probably came as a relief." And he laughed once more.

Someone cleared their throat.

Silent for a long time now, Near lifted his eyes to regard Naomi Penber thoughtfully.

"You said, 'He _thought_ he had to'."

Several people tensed at that reiteration.

Ryuk included.

"What precisely did you mean by that, may I ask?"

Really, she shouldn't hold back on this any longer. It might be unhealthy.

"Well," Kira's vanquisher ran a hand slowly through her India-ink stream of hair, "you might recall I mentioned something about a rule that said writing an eidolon's name will kill the wielder of a Death Note."

The death god crouched across the way from her, eyes flaring with suspicion.

And she gave him her warmest, most sincere smile.

"Yeah, I lied about that one, I'm afraid."

His jaw worked slowly side to side. After a while, this finally produced results.

"You _LIED?_" he hissed.

The fair-skinned female held up one hand vertically before her face, in the traditional Japanese method of appeasement. "_Gome na sai_, Ryuk."

Now nobody was following along.

"But…" Shuichi Aizawa goggled at her in stupefied amazement. "But the Note didn't kill you, just like you said! Are you telling me all that stuff about 'eidolons' and coming back from the dead was total _bullshit?_"

"Oh, no," she shook her head quickly. "The rest of it was true. I did die, and return from the grave. Those rules about eidolons were not fabrications. When you're telling a lie, it helps to add a grain of truth. And it helps even more when your target is mildly ignorant."

Ryuk bristled at this. "Hey, watch it, corpse-girl."

"Don't go taking offense," Naomi responded. "It's not like I forced you to do anything you weren't prepared to do from the get-go."

Mogi was staring back and forth between the two. "So that means… Light wasn't going to die after all. You just tricked them both into thinking he was." His features clouded over slightly, and then he blinked a few times. "But then how did you know? How did you know Ryuk would kill Light in that situation?"

In response, she bent and began arranging her killer's limbs into a more seemly state. Working at this morbid task alone, the transcendent maiden addressed them all in a soft, gentle voice. "I told you that gaining my name back also brought with it information relevant to me. Well, some of it was tangential. Probably in relation to defining how I was not able to kill people. Like 'If a Death Note owner accidentally misspells a name four times, that person will be free from being killed by the Death Note. However, if they intentionally misspell the name four times, the Death Note owner will die'. I suppose that was meant to illustrate how Death Notes are not absolute, like in the cases of eidolons."

They were hanging off her every word now. Naomi slid the watch back onto the lifeless wrist. For some reason, it seemed odd that the device was still functioning, now that its owner was dead. Like, pets should follow their masters.

I certainly hope that will prove to be the case here.

"But there was one other that was so illuminating, I have to wonder if the person who gave me all this didn't include it intentionally. One rule specifically stated that, 'Only a god of death that has passed on their Death Note to a human is able to kill the owner of the Death Note'. That's similar to how an eidolon can be killed by humans, but not shinigami, and not by Death Note."

Briefly, her gaze darted over to their resident ghoul, to make sure he was still present.

"Ryuk, I suppose there is a reason for something like this?"

He sneered back at her. "You mean you don't know that, too?"

"No." She settled back on her heels, shaking her head. "Like I said, there seemed to be a lot left out of the instructions I received. Maybe the person who gave them to me stole them somehow, and wasn't able to get everything in one go. So, is there?"

The shinigami gave a haughty sniff. "Yeah, there's a reason, and a good one too. But _like I said_, I'm under no obligation to be of help to anyone here. Especially not somebody who cost me such an intriguing outlook on existence as Light had."

Hideki Ide shifted uncomfortably then. "What kind of monster are you? You're the only one in the room who had no reason to kill him, and now that you have, you keep talking like it was all part of some game! Just what the hell's keeping you here, anyway? Light's dead! Isn't your damn show over now, shouldn't you be going back to whatever nightmare you crawled out of?"

The needle-capped pate turned to regard him, and the veteran investigator couldn't help but feel a shiver.

"I'm not going anywhere," Ryuk growled. "Not as long as I'm needed here. Somebody has to watch over my Death Note, after all."

Naomi stood up, brushing off her knees.

"So. That notebook Near is holding originated from you."

"No, that one's a fake, remember, smarty-pants?" He seemed pleased at having caught her in a mistake. "I'm actually referring to the one that the knee-high private eye has squirreled away in his trousers. That's the _real_ Death Note."

As if to confirm, Near dropped the facsimile and reached under his loosely draped shirt, allowing a single black corner to draw up for a second before once again hiding it.

She nodded, and then glanced over to the rest of the crowd in consideration.

"And the one Mr. Aizawa's carrying? To whom does that belong to?"

"The shinigami who can lay claim to that are gone twice over," Ryuk responded cryptically. "I'm the only one you have to concern yourself with now."

"I see."

With that, she began to walk over towards the man with the Death Note on his chest.

They parted before her. There was a look of determination on Naomi Penber's face that brooked no questioning from these experienced law enforcement officers. All but one, that is. When she came face to face with Shuichi Aizawa, he examined her with that perpetually disgruntled air. It was like now that Kira was dead, the distaste he had held for that entity transferred over to the next closest inhuman individual. That just happened to be the woman standing calmly before him.

She held out her hand.

"Give it to me."

One hand still held his revolver. The other came up to clutch protectively at the plain-seeming sheaf of bound vellum secured to his ribs.

"What for?"

I gave you what you wanted, Naomi thought. Don't make me kick your ass to see this through.

Cool it. Misora 'Massacre' doesn't exist anymore, remember? And Penber 'Punisher' just sounds silly. Give him a reason he can believe in.

"So I can keep it from hurting anyone else again."

That got something of a response. Maybe he was thinking about all the people who had died over this affair. Or maybe Aizawa was considering who else could die. Light had alluded to him having children. What was he willing to risk to never have to worry about another maniac finding fault with them and ending their lives with the stroke of a pen?

Clearly a lot, because without further ado, he retrieved the Note and passed it over to her silently.

That took guts, considering she had confessed to lying already. No one else objected either. Perhaps they were all as sick of this mess as a human could be, and were willing to do anything to see it brought to a close.

That's exactly what I want, folks.

So thinking, Naomi turned and strode briskly over to where Near and his unasked-for familiar waited.

She came to a halt before them. Not even a glance was spared to the curious little boy at her feet. All the eidolon's attention was fixed on Ryuk.

He cocked his head.

"What's on your mind, widow Penber?"

Justice.

You cruel, heartless bastard.

Outwardly, she simply smiled, and proffered the pad out to him.

"Take this back, won't you?"

There was a stirring of discontent at her back, and below, Near spoke up tranquilly. "Naomi Penber, this is not a good idea."

There was neither time nor need to be gentle about this. Far from it.

"You haven't got a clue, Sherlock. Now shut it."

Once more, the second tablet of death was held out. Its potential owner eyed her candidly. "What's the idea? You actually want _me_ to have this? I thought you didn't like me."

It wouldn't be overstating to say that I loathe you, Ryuk. But I think I've got you pegged, now.

"You deserve this more than any of us."

He was watching her with a decidedly mistrustful face, even for one who lacked such subtleties of expression most of the time.

"Is this another of those rules I should read up on? Like, 'A shinigami who takes a Note from an eidolon will die'?"

Naomi arched an eyebrow. "Shinigami can die? That's news to me. Thanks." When he scowled quite obviously, she once more favored him with her most endearing grin. "I don't pretend to know everything about you, Ryuk. But I'm not trying to kill you here. Believe me. Anyway, I can't kill, remember?"

And it's true. I'm not aiming for your death, shinigami.

I just want you to remember something.

He gave a wondering growl. "Maybe not directly."

But his fingers twitched. And then, he slowly reached out and clasped the book with both hands.

"Thanks," he said.

"No problem."

To Ryuk's surprise, the woman then slipped her fingers over his.

That was certainly unexpected.

And just a bit… unnerving.

Disliking the way this was headed, the god of death decided to break off their contact by phasing his body slightly out of physical state, as he had done in the past.

Something happened then that shouldn't.

She wouldn't let go.

Her hands remained wrapped about his talons, now more tightly than before.

What the hell was _this_, now?

His bulbous eyes looked into her own.

What was in them gave the supernatural horror a glimpse of what real panic must feel like.

He tried to jerk himself free, but failed. After this admittedly feeble attempt, Ryuk just hung there, too flabbergasted to consider doing anything else.

His captor had stopped smiling.

"If only I _could_ kill you, shinigami."

She squeezed then, and he jumped with surprise.

Naomi Penber's voice came out, low, and heartless. "Nobody forced Light to kill any of us. But it's easy to forget that he never would have had the chance if not for you. You just hid in the background the whole time, laughing at our plight, didn't you, Ryuk?"

A choking sound emerged from the sunken throat. Black wings unfurled from his back, flapping without any visible result. It was as though her touch held him pinned to this one space, one moment.

"I wonder, did you laugh at me, when your boy sent me off to die?"

She jerked his arms apart, and the Death Note fell to earth between them.

Naomi and Ryuk stared at one another.

"Whatever you took from writing down Light Yagami's name…"

There was cold, purposeful anger in every word now.

"… _is the last you're ever going to get!"_

The pale hands jerked, and there came a horrific grinding, snapping noise, loud as dead twigs breaking in an empty forest.

Ryuk croaked out something unintelligible. It could have been a curse, spoken in a language known only to his kind. He then raised those black-draped claws up before wide, disbelieving eyes. From the shinigami's knuckles, his fingers hung at impossible angles, broken and clearly ruined. It might have been only the gloves themselves giving those maimed mitts any semblance of shape.

While their owner gazed in blank incomprehension, Naomi casually reached up, grasped his thumbs and bent them until they cracked. Then the two dark figures parted from one another.

There came a piteous moan.

"Wh…"

Kira's shadow dropped to his knees, mesmerized by the sight of what had been done to his immortal body.

"What did… you do to… me?"

Naomi bent and picked up the fallen murder book, then straightened to observe her humbled adversary.

" 'An eidolon is anathema to gods of death. Its touch is the only thing that can cause them injury in all the realm of the living'." She then tucked the Note under her arm. "There's one last secret for you, Ryuk. No entertainment comes for free, and you've just paid the price for six years worth."

"I can't…"

Blood-red pupils rose, the face working into total shock.

"I can't write anymore. Not with these." He held up his ruined digits, displaying them for all to see. "They're useless. I can't write with them. I can't take anymore human lives. I…" That monstrous form bowed down, clutching itself as best it could. "It's over. I won't be able to add any more years to my life. There's no way I can write down the names. Not with these." And he turned a wondering look on the woman standing before him. "I'm going to die now."

She returned an expression of cool disdain, and then turned away.

"Welcome to Earth, Ryuk. _Nobody_ gets out alive."

Penber then reached down and yanked the other Death Note out of Near's shirt before he could object. Holding both of them now caused everyone in the room to eye her with a measure of trepidation and dread.

Get serious, folks.

With that, the reincarnated soul held up Kira's prized possessions and said evenly, "Does anyone have a lighter?"

* * *

Red globes flashed and spun. The sound of a gurney being retracted was followed by the cautious murmur of paramedics. After some jostling, they managed to get the second black bag up into the back of an ambulance and shut the doors. The white emergency vehicle then slowly peeled off, wailing its dirge for all to hear. And none who caught it in the time afterwards recognized that this was a death-knell announcing the obliteration of Kira's despotic world, and his perfect dream.

Several members of the now-defunct police squads stood watching the white van diminish along the coast. Waves eventually overpowered the dwindling siren, and they finally turned to rejoin their comrades a short distance away.

Off to one side of the warehouse, well out of sight from the recently contacted medical professionals, a small group of Japanese and Americans stood around a small mound of glowing ash. A breeze came up off the sea, stirring the fragments and causing them to shift and collapse, drifting from sight, but not memory. Since no one here had expected to be smoking that day, they had been forced to wait for the arrival of the medical professionals to complete their work, enduring the despairing pleas of a wild being that they alone could hear. Fortunately, an inordinate number of healthcare workers smoked, a source of much gallows humor in their line of work. Today a slim tube of steel normally used to shorten lives had instead been put to work saving them.

While some explained to the ambulance personnel a hastily constructed version of today's events, the remainder had watched in relief as Naomi Penber set fire to all three seeming Death Notes, just to be on the safe side. Murmurs of wonder went up among them as two of the tomes burst into clear blue flame, incinerating much faster than any had expected. There was a faint howl that went up with them, and from still within the building, the sound of Ryuk's hysteria cut off. None went to check on him. The god of death had been banished from their world along with his protégé. What became of him now was none of their concern.

After the fire dwindled, the sad-eyed female ground the heel of her boot into them for good measure.

Anthony Carter, senior member of the U.S. team, stirred then. "Excuse me…"

She lifted her eyes to him questioningly. He looked a trifle shame-faced, but continued nonetheless. "What you did today… some people might consider it manslaughter."

Several others looked over at him, some hesitant, others accusing. Naomi didn't mind. This was something she had not only expected, but welcomed.

It was like coming home.

"Actually, sir, I'm glad you brought it up. I did indeed set out to see Light Yagami dead by someone's hand today. I never really expected any of you to do it, though. You're all professionals by practice. And the law does classify engineering events that lead to a person's death as 'manslaughter'."

"But you were all prepared to bring Kira to justice, and incarcerate him where he could never do anyone harm. That's what you were all fighting for: the rule of law, over the rule of Kira. And you did have enough evidence to prove Light guilty of attempted murder, at least. So if you want to arrest me for going beyond the bounds of the law, I'd consider that as being welcomed back into a normal, healthy society."

"Oh." Stephen Loud pulled the parchment scrap bearing Naomi's name from his pocket. "I forgot about this." A slight frown then creased his forehead. "You know, now that I think about it, it's odd that Yagami would hold onto something so damning. If he had destroyed it somehow when we weren't looking, like maybe…"

"Eating it?"

They all looked to Penber, who reached into her pocket and produced the ball-gag that Light had been sporting. "That's what this was for. I knew given the chance, he'd dispose of the evidence immediately after putting it into affect. The best way to do that, without obvious access to any means of burning we wouldn't notice, was to swallow it. I had to prevent him from doing that without giving away that was what I was doing. That way, the safest place to put the Note piece would be hidden back where it came out. His watch."

Ide straightened at that. "Wait. How did _you_ figure out that Light's watch had a secret compartment anyway?"

A lost look came over Naomi's face then, as though she were trying to remember the name of a song she hadn't heard in a long time. "In the six years I was trapped in between worlds, only two people ever talked to me. One was the stranger who spoke my name to set me free. The other was someone I thought I recognized, but was never fully certain. He came to me, and told me that he'd figured out something. 'It's the watch'. That's what he said. It didn't make any sense at the time. But I knew… it had to be important to him, coming all the way over just to tell me that. So I gave it some thought after returning. If Light Yagami was as careful as I suspected him to be, he'd manage to figure out a way to have access to his Death Note at all times. Secreted away, somewhere no one would ever think of looking, or pay much attention to if he went for it. A wallet, maybe. Or even a place that wouldn't occur to anyone as being possible. Like inside a watch. It was the illogical conclusion that came from eliminating all reasonable explanations. Maybe I was manipulated into thinking that way. But if so, I'm used to it. And I've found that in such crazy circumstances, the person doing the manipulating is often leading you to the right conclusion."

"Yeah," she breathed. "It was very familiar. And extremely irritating. I remember wishing he had told me more than just that. Almost like he expected me to figure things out for myself. A sign of respect, perhaps. Like he knew I could. So that's how… I know. I know who gave me the clue I needed to beat Light."

The ghost of a smile lifted her lips.

"It was L."

A few of the master detective's old allies drew sharp breaths at hearing his name. It conjured the picture of a gangly young man dressed in jeans and a white shirt, perching bird-like on a chair in bare feet, nibbling his thumbnail absently while keeping his attention riveted on half a dozen screens right before him. Occasionally one hand would snake out, scoop up a German hazelnut Waufferneusen, dip it into a bowl of honey, and proceed to fill his mouth with it, sucking almost lazily on the syrupy sweet nectar before biting through the crispy chocolate-coated layers with a firm crunch.

Then those black-rimmed eyes swiveled to regard them piercingly. And a murmuring voice spoke in the back of their minds.

_Well won. All of you._

A second later, that shared impression shattered.

The Americans watched their shaken compatriots, realizing that something unexplained had just passed between them. After a while, Carter coughed softly, and ran a hand through his hair.

"I think…" He pondered his next words with careful consideration. "I think we've all just woken up from a bad dream. I don't really go in for dodging the bullet much, but this has been torture from day one. If given the choice between continuing to live under Kira's shadow, or just putting it all behind us, I for one would choose the latter. I'm tired of thinking about how I'm going to explain all this nonsense to my superiors. And I certainly don't want to have to stand up and try to convince a jury that a dead woman tricked a demon into giving the sorcerer who conjured it a heart attack."

The weary-looking agent cast a glance over to where Naomi Penber waited. He studied her quietly for a time, and then sighed.

"Miss Penber, if you want to walk away from here, I won't try to stop you. I'll just say 'Thank you'. For doing what you had to do."

After a while, they all joined in. Silent nods and thanks in two languages came, and a few of them actually moved forward to shake her hand.

It was strangely touching, to be acknowledged this way.

When they were all finished showing their appreciation, the two sides of law's coin began to converse with one another cautiously, on topics ranging from media coverage to family issues. Halle Bullock spoke with Kanzo Mogi on the possible ramifications of telling the world point-blank that its hanging judge had been taken off the bench. Aizawa, Ide, and the man whose name was Loud somehow got onto the topic of children, of which they all seemed to have a fair amount. It was while this was going on that Naomi Penber drifted off to one side, intent on using this opportunity to make good on her escape.

Before she could, though, someone came hurrying over to her.

"Miss Penber."

It was the Boy Scout. Touta Matsuda. She turned to regard him with what she hoped was a civil expression. No telling how people react to your face, considering that you can't see it. And in spite of the delay, she really didn't have anything against him, one way or the other.

Drawing abreast of her, the somehow still-green detective of six years crossed his arms self-consciously, then reconsidered and stuffed them into his pants, before seeming to find this awkward and transferring them to his coat pockets, where they stayed.

"Ah," he started, and then stopped. This was almost painful to watch, Penber thought. She decided not to say anything; it looked like one wrong word from her might scare him off. Honestly, did he expect her to drink his blood or something? How on earth did you survive this long, kid? You're cute, but not that cute.

"Miss… Naomi, I wanted… to say… how much I appreciate… everything you went through, and everything you… risked, to see this all through… and everything…"

Like he's giving a planned speech. Actually, my silence might be construed as intimidating, so…

"You're welcome, Mr. Touta."

Did he just blush?

Don't get any ideas, kid. Eidolon, remember? No white picket fences and 3.5 kids for me.

"Well, having said that… I wonder if maybe there might be… anything I could do to help you, and stuff…"

She was just about to open her mouth to decline, when a thought struck Naomi.

Maybe he could lend me a hand with something.

"I could use your help with one thing. It would make it a lot easier on me."

"I understand I shouldn't have brought it up I just wanted to wait, what now?"

Living with the specter of Light Yagami hanging over her for the last three months, it had somehow escaped her attention that decent, sweet people still existed in the world. Well, I guess that means he and I were both focusing too much on the down side of humanity. This might be a good time to discard that behavior.

So resolved, the leather-wrapped beauty smiled pleasantly at her assistant.

"Come with me. We'll discuss it on the way."

She turned and strode off, not bothering to check if he was following. Some things in life were certain. And sure enough, Matsuda followed hot on her heels.

They moved away from the rest of their party, passing the sleek black American roadster where Near had been ensconced for the better part of half an hour, engrossed in his toys and fiendishly taxing calculations. No doubt L's unnamed replacement was striving even now to decipher the scarlet skein of murder running through some morass of information. The quest to live up to such a daunting namesake would no doubt haunt this autistic orphan for the remainder of his days, Naomi thought with a touch of sympathy. I'd wish you luck, Near, but in all honesty, I think you're too out of touch, and I don't back a lame horse. Nothing personal.

Well, maybe a little personal. 'N' was clearly no 'L', and to have to settle for such an inferior copy made her feel as if there was a certain amount of discredit done to L's legacy.

Ah, well. Maybe I'll give it a shot. Geraldo Coil seemed to have checked out of the picture lately as well. Maybe he could take me on as a replacement? Just a thought.

"So, uh," Matsuda rubbed the back of his head nervously. "Are we going anywhere, or did you want some advice?"

_No, I just want you for sex, that's all._

Naomi was tempted to say it out loud, just to watch him pass out. But this was serious business she had in mind.

"I need you to direct me somewhere."

"Oh." A pause. "Then, should I go get the car? I drove here… well, not alone, but the other person in the car was… I mean, he's dead, and I don't think anybody's going to mind if I just went off for a while. We probably all need some time to think, and…"

"Thanks, but that's not necessary. We'll just take my ride."

At this point, she turned a corner. When Matsuda followed, he almost jumped out of his skin when a motorcycle helmet was lobbed over towards him. Catching it on the second attempt, the young idealist then finally noticed that Naomi Penber was hooking one leg over a 1982 Honda GL 500 Silverwing now idling in park. Clipping up her long fall of pitch-black hair, she then donned headgear of a similar hue.

The cycle enthusiast revved the engine, and then turned that featureless helm so that her gawking accomplice was reflected in it. One black-gloved thumb indicated over her shoulder.

"Hop on. And hold on tight. I'm told I drive like a maniac, and I don't know how long this will take."

* * *

Despite her admittedly nasty predictions, Touta Matsuda did not scream like a little girl during their trip. Either he couldn't catch enough air to do so, or he was still too dazed by the prospect of what she had asked of him.

For a time after takeoff, there had been this weird exhilaration coursing through Naomi's body. Only then, with the traffic racing past and the feel of another person holding quite tightly around her waist, did it seem real.

She was alive!

And Light Yagami was dead.

Their roles had been reversed. There was no chance of anyone coming to his rescue now. She had seen what awaited him. The same thing they all had to look forward to. Nothing. A rather dispiriting fate, until you considered who was getting it in this case. Maybe if you had actually loved someone, Light, enough to marry them. And if the shinigami hadn't known everything about you. But whatever tender feelings you might have harbored towards other human beings had been subsumed under the slag and smoke of the force of nature that was the Kira persona.

Although in the end, there had been a possible hint of remorse on his part. They were now going to see whether it was feigned or real. The spark of humanity, or one last lethal trick? Who could say?

We will, in a few minutes.

They had ridden around for almost ten minutes before her backseat passenger had mustered the courage to ask where they needed to go. This was done at a stop light, so Naomi had taken the time to flip the lid of her helmet to keep from having to repeat herself.

Even with this precaution, he looked as if she had asked for his manhood in a sling.

It was a rather simple request, really.

"I need to meet with Sayu Yagami."

Apparently the hyperactive state of his emotions did still allow for clear and reasoned thinking, because the first question out of his mouth was, "What do you plan to tell her?"

That single query encompassed a lot of feelings. He was clearly concerned, suspicious, anxious, hesitant, and even hopeful. It would seem that she had chosen wisely in this instance. Not only was Touta familiar with Light Yagami's sister, but he cared about her to a sufficient degree to assist Naomi in reaching their destination. That is, if the woman could prove her intentions were honorable.

The light still hadn't turned green. People in business suits and regular attire were crossing the intersection in front of them. That afforded them the opportunity to have a brief heart-to-heart.

Matsuda had slid the visor of his own skull-shield up to affix the driver with a discerning glare. Say what you would about the guy being overly enthusiastic, it didn't prevent him from being a force to be reckoned with. Full of surprises, aren't you, big boy?

"Matsuda, you never met me before today, and considering everything you've seen, you'd be crazy not to doubt my intentions. But for all that I killed your boss an hour ago, you can believe me when I tell you that I am no threat to his family, even if I am a total stranger and not quite human."

Having said this, the eidolon then turned and flipped down her face-plate.

Stay on or get off. It's up to you if you're coming along for the ride, or just going to let me find them on my own. You're a hero, right, Matsuda?

She waited for the light to turn green.

As she did, the feeling of his arms coming around her once more settled things.

"We're going to have to drive for a while. They're… not living in the suburbs right now."

Okay, then.

"Don't fall off, officer."

The signal blinked on, and Naomi clenched the throttle, roaring out of the gateway.

* * *

Over an hour later found them in a wooded area on the limits of town, where a cabin of spacious and modern design blended into the idyllic forest setting, almost seeming to have grown up there from out of the earth.

When she killed the ignition and dropped the kickstand, her novice backseat rider fell over himself trying to get away.

"That…" he gasped. "That was not legal! I refuse to believe it!" He then scrambled to his feet, and raised a trembling finger before her face. "When this is over, I am making it my duty as an agent of the law to see you get a _thorough_ driving examination!"

Naomi paid his outburst no mind. She was busy examining the structure rising in front of her. So far no one had come out to greet them. Matsuda had refused to call ahead, on the basis that he did not want to force Mrs. Yagami to live with what he had to tell her for one second more than was necessary.

It occurred to her that he made no mention of Sayu, who apparently was Light's younger sister.

Shaking slightly, he moved past her, and as he did, Penber reached out and took his shoulder. Her guide glanced back questioningly.

She took a deep breath.

"Light Yagami was insane and evil, but even he had a mother. Are you sure you want to be the one who does this?"

Matsuda's eyes drifted off to the side. In a quiet voice, he said, "Nobody should hear that they've outlived their own child. And I might not seem like the brightest person, but to honestly believe any of the others is suitable for this would qualify me as an idiot and a monster. We all talked about this back at the dock. I actually liked Light. None of the others did. And I respected his father more than anyone, even my own, I'm ashamed to say. It's actually for his sake that I'm doing this. I don't know how he did it, but the chief died convinced his son wasn't Kira. If I'm going to honor his memory, I have to insure that the same goes for the rest of his family."

He turned back up to her, wearing a look that seemed frightfully out of place on that boyish countenance. "Just so we're clear on that, if you make any mention of Light being Kira, I'll break your damn neck. Believe it, Miss Penber."

She nodded. "Yeah." No problem believing that one.

So much for calling him Boy Scout in my head.

Don't make me go capoeira on you, Mr. Touta.

Apparently satisfied, Matsuda then led them over to the porch. Naomi trailed in his shadow, stuffing her hands into her jacket's pockets. She wondered what the rest of this family would be like. Freaky geniuses, like Light? Normal as the day is long?

What am I supposed to do here, anyway?

A voice came back to her then, choked with pain and fading fast.

"_Protect…"_ it gasped, _"my sister… Sayu…protect… her…"_

She had given him her response, in tactile form.

If that's what it took to be rid of your ghost, then I will do it.

Matsuda was knocking on the door, and feeling suddenly apprehensive, she slipped her dark glasses from a front pocket and put them on. It wouldn't do if they saw the loathing she held for their departed family member in her eyes.

There was movement from the other side, and a woman's voice came through.

"Who is it?"

"Mrs. Yagami," the kid managed to keep his tones even and controlled, "It's Touta Matsuda."

There was some hesitation. Was that mother's instinct telling her their purpose in being here, or the ever-present fear of a cop's wife? At any rate, it took several more seconds for the locks to be turned and the latch drawn.

The door creaked open, and a middle-aged lady's plain, rounded features gazed out at them. She looked tired, Naomi thought. Or drained, the way some nurses did after working 18-hour shifts. Whatever doubts she might have possessed about the integrity of Yagami's family were dispelled by that simple, honest weariness etched into every line on his mother's face.

"Matsuda," Mrs. Yagami spoke faintly. Her gaze travelled over to take in the woman standing unmoving at his back. "What can I do for you?"

"Ma'am, this is… Naomi Penber, the wife of an FBI agent. You…" He swallowed, shivering quite apparently. "We need to speak with you."

One hand moved up to touch the doorframe, as though seeking support. For just a second, it looked as though Light's mother was about to pass out. Then she drew a deep, practiced breath.

"Please come in, both of you."

She stepped aside to make room. When her silent guests were inside, Mrs. Yagami closed and locked the door securely once more. Without looking at them, she beckoned, and proceeded to lead the pair into the main sitting area of the house.

The first thing that struck Penber was not the décor, but the person sitting upright on a sofa.

Sayu Yagami, for that was clearly who this must be if family resemblances meant anything, was a small, pretty young woman with dark hair as long as her own. She had features that would have made a Japanese idol star worry about the competition. But any appreciation for those good looks was quickly dispelled by the slack, unfeeling expression that hung over her eyes and face. Sayu made no acknowledgement of their entry, nor indeed anything else; only sat there, hands carefully folded in her lap, dressed in a simple blouse and slack cargo pants. She was clean, and well-fed, and nothing else.

Her mind was a million miles away. Anywhere but here. Naomi came to realize all this in a few seconds, and a surge of pity caused her to walk over, stand before the girl and speak.

"Hello, Sayu. My name's Naomi."

The girl's mother peered at her daughter closely, as if hoping against hope for some miracle to occur with the introduction of a new person. But none came. Seeing this, it made Penber curse the gods. Just what had these people ever done, to all unknowing be subjected to the sick joke of living with and suffering through the designs of a megalomaniacal mass murderer? It was by no means just, and at that moment, if she had been given the choice before of killing Light or healing his little sister, there wouldn't have been any doubt that she'd have chosen the latter.

She had seen a shinigami with her own eyes. They were real. So where, then, were all the damn angels? Was grace and mercy just an illusion?

Gazing into Sayu Yagami's vacant eyes, that certainly seemed to be the case.

"Mrs. Yagami."

That was Matsuda now.

"Can you and I go somewhere to speak privately?"

The lady of the house cast a vaguely uncertain look in the leather-clad woman's direction, and her son's associate spoke up again. "It's okay, Naomi is someone I trust. Sayu will be fine with her. I give you my word."

His reassurance was accepted whole-heartedly, apparently a sign of how much the kid's character was valued in this house. With no further hesitation, the two of them moved off towards a hallway. Before they went around the corner, Touta cast a look back at her, and Naomi nodded in understanding. She would not interrupt what was about to happen.

In a way, she was afraid to.

Instead the maiden in black sat down, and waited for a person she had nothing against to experience her worst nightmare.

To save herself from thinking too much about this, Naomi spoke quietly to the mute victim that remained unmoving to one side.

"I don't know what to say to you, really. Not even sure what he was thinking, asking me to protect you. Clearly you need someone to, but why me? I don't know the first thing about you, except that you're his sister. Not even sure how long you've been like this or why. I've only just now really started to live again. Maybe he recognized that I had been lost for a long time too, and perhaps that meant I could help you back somehow. It's impossible to really know what he had planned. Was he asking anyone to do it, or specifically me?"

There was something undeniably creepy about this. She had killed this girl's brother, as surely as if she had written his name in the Death Note herself. So why the odd compunction to obey his final dying wish? Was she really in control of herself? The Note could manipulate people's behaviors and actions. Could its power even now be influencing her? No way to know for sure. The one person in this whole world who understood the function of such instruments had gone to his final reward.

Did he send me to you as punishment?

Somewhere in the house then, a woman's scream exploded all peace in this glade.

It was pure agony. Raw, tearing wails that sounded like they must be shredding the person's vocal cords. The breaths in between could actually be heard, they were so loud, before progressing to the next fearsome howl. This was what happened when someone abandoned any trace of self control, compelled by the worst emotion imaginable to think only of expressing that all-consuming anguish.

Naomi closed her eyes, and for the first time, her soul knew guilt for what she had accomplished.

Before her, Sayu made no sign of having heard.

Her attendant stared.

What if…

What if she really could hear, but lacked any means of expressing it?

If that was so, then…

Without another thought, Naomi Penber reached forward and placed her hands over the girl's ears.

She remained in this position, feeling neither awkwardness nor foolishness. Maybe it was a useless effort. But if there was even the slightest chance there wasn't, she had to take it.

The Yagami clan's bereaved mother voiced her plaintive cries without cease.

I didn't come back for this, the architect of that pain thought. Why am I still here? What's the point of living in a world that has no mercy, one ruled by unseen shadowy horrors like Kira, and Ryuk? The shinigami are still out there, playing their games with us, cutting our lives short when it suits them. I'm the only one they can't touch, and really, that's just a fluke. A virtually impossible set of circumstances, born from a vague set of instructions, a delayed reaction, and the support of someone who doesn't exist anymore.

What did I ever do to live?

Why not L? Couldn't he have done more? Didn't someone that gifted deserve to live for more than however long he had been given? Of course, in that light, even Light died before his time. He was smarter than me. I admit it. The only thing that let me beat him was because I knew something he didn't. If the field was even, he would have massacred me.

Why me?

Why am I the last one standing? Where is the guardian angel we're all supposed to have? Or is it just an angel of death. Holding a notebook and laughing.

Sometime while she was considering this, the screams had finally stopped. Now only copious weeping echoed throughout the house, as a mother understood she had lost her only husband, daughter, and now son.

Upon realizing this, the confused young eidolon let her hands fall to rest on Sayu's unresponsive shoulders.

"Is there…"

A shiver went up her spine, and her arms trembled.

"Is there really no one looking out for us?"

When no answer came, Naomi did the one thing that seemed to make any sense. That was to embrace the traumatized teen sitting before her, wrapping her arms behind the other girl's neck and stroking her carefully maintained hair.

It didn't make her feel any better. It was just another small act of tenderness to a fellow suffering soul. And like before, it elicited no response.

Hadn't really expected it to.

Opening her eyes, Naomi Penber found herself looking into the smiling face of Light Yagami.

Fear.

Wrath.

Desire.

All that was there before now, wasn't.

That was because this was just a photograph. A family picture sitting in a frame on the magazine stand by their seat. Taken in happier times, judging by the pleasant, unforced smiles on all their faces. She studied them, wondering where it had all gone wrong. Was this Light the one before he had resolved to become a killer? Or sometime after her death had already transpired? There was no way to tell. He looked exactly as calm and unruffled as the day she had first met him. Where was the demon? They certainly didn't seem to be intimidated by his presence. Sayu was actually hugging his arm in sisterly affection, and the hand he laid over hers could easily be taken as a sign of love. She looked happy just to be with her big brother, eyes filled with joy. Mrs. Yagami stood behind them, one hand resting on her daughter's shoulder, the other arm going around her husband, the deceased Mr. Yagami, who looked very dignified in his…

Eyes.

She stiffened.

The eyes.

From over her own, one hand withdrew the tinted shades.

Look at the eyes.

Very carefully, as though afraid of disturbing the state of dawning awareness that had settled over her, Naomi Penber reached out and picked up the frame, drawing it closer to her pale, awestruck face.

Yes. There was no mistaking it.

It was the eyes.

They were brown, and so dark as to be almost black, like virtually all of her people. But still, she knew them. Nothing else caught her attention like they did.

And as she sat there, holding the girl's limp form, Naomi felt strong arms coming around her again even as she did the same, raising her up with supernatural power to break free from the unchanging void in which she had been imprisoned. Without realizing it she stood, taking Sayu along with her. There was so much to remember, and so little. The marching dead, shadows guarding them, realization that her preserved body lay entombed, and that she had to fight to throw off the roof of this crypt with a strength that would be denied to her at any second. There had been someone helping her then, lending support that defied mere human efforts. That was because he wasn't fully human anymore. A part of his soul had been taken away, and replaced with something else.

The red eyes of a shinigami.

Naomi's personal savior, who unbeknownst to her had seen her earthly title with his unearthly gaze, and recognized both surname and given name from when L had told both to them, years long past.

He was the one she had been waiting for. It had stayed with her, for the simple reason that the last thing she had attempted to do before falling under the Death Note's spell was to try and reach him. That was why, when relieved of that curse, the desire to find him had been the only thing she was certain of, after all else had been stripped from memory, even both of their names.

Now, at last, she saw the face of the dead man that had endowed her with fresh life and charged his newborn daughter to destroy the reign of Kira. Stern yet compelling, he drew a most regal figure.

It was so absolutely mind-boggling.

A man with the eyes of a god, who alone among that breed had never used them to kill anyone, and thus retained his purpose and humanity even beyond death, enough to cow the very guardians of the afterlife.

That was Kira's father.

"Souichiro… Yagami," she breathed incredulously, almost in a trance.

He… this man was my…

"Father."

Naomi blinked.

Did I say that, or…?

The resurrected maiden drew away slightly from her companion, watching the other face closely. In Sayu's eyes, there remained not a hint of recognition.

And yet, she could have sworn…

Slowly, Penber settled the Yagami girl back into her seat.

Had it really happened?

It wasn't impossible.

And suddenly, it came to her. There _were_ angels hovering over our shoulders, protecting and guiding us. We name them parents. As well as friends, lovers, family and comrades. The people who saved us from heaven only knows how many loathsome acts every single day. They were all around us, protecting our lives.

They are the people who love you.

Fresh from this revelation, Naomi understood where her purpose lay.

She had been charged with filling the role of an older sibling that had been vacated through the previous incumbent's cruel vanity and selfishness. Not Kira's replacement, but Light Yagami's. Naomi Penber was now a guardian angel for Sayu Yagami, as well as her mother. It was a role she accepted without fear or hindrance.

In addition, that helped to remind her of one other thing that absolutely had to be done, as soon as possible. There was no more need to hide anymore.

Feeling lighter than she had since just before her husband's tragic death, Raye Penber's widow knelt and placed a parting kiss on the warm cheek of her silent little sister.

"I have to go for now, Sayu," she murmured, "but I promise I'll come back to you. When you do make your way past the pain, it'll be to find me waiting with all the others who care for you."

Saying this, her big sister placed the old family photo into the dreamer's lap, closing her hands over it.

"Remember them as only you can, Sayu. Your caring father, and wonderful brother. One day, you'll tell me all about them. I really want to hear it."

With that, Naomi stood up and went to inform Matsuda that she was leaving him here, and he would need to call a cab.

Two minutes later saw her roaring away.

* * *

She was somewhere that she recognized. And she knew exactly who she was.

She remembered everything.

Her name was once Naomi Misora, and now Naomi Penber. She had found the ones she sought. They had stayed in a place that she would know to return to. That made her glad.

The bike was parked further down the street. No sense making a ruckus. As things stood there was a great enough risk of unexpected catastrophes. Naomi walked briskly up the driveway, feeling her heartbeat fluttering with excitement and worry.

I really and truly pray nobody has an unexpected heart attack over this. All you shinigami watching better close those books or somebody gets hurt.

With this thought in mind, she stopped before the door and rang the buzzer.

Several seconds of life slipped away into the past, never to return. And just when she thought there was nobody home…

An achingly familiar voice came over the intercom.

"Hello?"

Naomi Penber took a deep breath. Here goes everything.

"Mom?"

She heard a gasp.

"It's me. It's Mi-Mi."

**FIN.**


End file.
